Love and Rockets
by Auburn Red
Summary: Events documenting Johnny and Omar's relationship before and after the film. Can the love between the two survive any opposition and challenges both from out and within? Warnings: Slash M/M duh, M/M rape, drug addiction, attempted suicide, and OOC-ness
1. Chapter 1

Love and Rockets

By Auburn Red

A My Beautiful Launderette fanfic

None of these characters belong to me. They belong to the very talented Hanif Kureishi. However, I did create Latika, Gigi, Del, Max, Frida, Toby, and Little Ali.

Chapter One: What are words for?

There was no point in reopening the launderette, yet. At least not until the place was fixed up. Johnny and Omar had a late start in getting it cleaned up. A really late start, Johnny grinned, thinking of the night before.

After the two had made love in the backroom, they went to Johnny's new place to spend the night. Johnny was just as surprised as Omar that he volunteered to let him spend the night since he was ready to leave him before. But Omar was reluctant to go home, probably because he didn't want to answer any complicated questions from his father. Johnny admitted only to himself that he didn't want to be alone that night either.

Johnny continued to sweep up the glass and trash. As he swept it into the duster, he moved the broom fiercely. He thought of each person that he blamed for the fight, Johnny's injuries, and the whole damn mess! He swept the remnants with fury. Sweep! "Damn Nassar!" Sweep! "Fuck Genghis!" Sweep! "Fuck Salim!" Sweep! "The hell with Omar!" Sweep! "Damn me too!"

He glanced over at the backroom window. Omar had spent all day on the phone arguing or talking with people to help with Powders' repairs. Sometimes he spoke in English, sometimes in Urdu. Either way it sounded bad.

Omar slammed the phone down and walked over to Johnny's side. The Englishman leaned closer to his lover. Omar tenderly placed his hand on the side of Johnny's head where the bruises still showed. "It will leave a scar won't it?" Omar asked gently. Johnny shrugged. Omar's hand tried to cover the bruise as though he could rub off the bruise with just a touch. Omar leaned closer to his boyfriend, so their foreheads touched.

"What happened?" Johnny asked pulling him away.

Omar sighed. "Which would you like to hear first, the bad news or the really bad news?"

"Does it matter?" Johnny asked.

Omar fingered the dents in one of the washing machines that had been hit by the garbage can. "I spoke to the window replacement, electrician, rewiring, and plumbing. Guess how much it's going to cost to rev this place up again?"

"A million quid?" Johnny asked facetiously.

Omar smirked. "Close enough, it might as well be. Try, 50,000."

The punk whistled. "Christ."

"My thoughts exactly, "Omar agreed." Of course we could be insured for the damages, but therein lays the really bad news. A few months ago, my uncle was letting the insurance lapse in some of his failed businesses including-"

"-the launderette," Johnny guessed. "Remind me to thank him next time I see him." He leaned against a washing machine crossing his arms. "You talk to your uncle, yet?"

"I haven't been able to reach him yet," Omar said. "But Auntie Bilkes says that he is busy cutting Tania out of his life. Cutting her out of pictures, erasing her from documents. He doesn't want to say that she's dead. He'd rather pretend like she never existed. . Auntie told me that he visited Salim in the hospital earlier." Omar smiled and rubbed Johnny's shoulder seductively. He laughed sheepishly. "Speaking of which, how do you feel about visiting a sick friend in the hospital?"

Johnny pulled away from his lover. His pale face reddened and he looked like he was about to explode. He knew exactly where this conversation was going. "That depends on the friend, yeah?"

"Well, Cherry called and she said that Salim is out of intensive care and has his own private room and he has been asking for us by name," Omar began. "I thought it would be a nice gesture if we could visit him and-"

"-No," Johnny said plainly.

"But he asked for both of us you and me," Omar replied. "He may want to thank you for saving him."

Johnny snorted in defiance. "Not likely," he said. "We weren't exactly close mates before."

"I know but it would bring you closer to my family," Omar began.

"To the business you mean," Johnny replied.

"It means the same to me," Omar said frantically. "There is so much that's gone wrong. I just want everything to go right again. I want this business back to normal. I want to make my family proud of me and I want you."

Johnny rolled his eyes, and then kissed Omar on the mouth. "What was that for?" the young businessman said.

"You," the punk said. "Why do you always get me to do the exact opposite of what I want to do?"

Omar smiled. "Two reasons, one I'm your boss," Omar said. "And well you know the other reason."

They kissed again. "That reason infuriates me more," Johnny grinned.

Salim was in the hospital room arguing with the nurses and simultaneously fighting with his wife, Cherry.

"No, I don't need another fucking injection," he commanded.

"Salim, calm down," Cherry placated her husband.

"Fuck that," the drug dealer yelled at his wife. His body and face recovered slowly from the beatings, but the scars would still remain as well as some other injuries.

"Is there anything I can get you," Cherry asked thinly just as anxious to get away from her argumentative husband if even for a few minutes as she was to soothe him.

"Run off and fetch me a whiskey," Salim commanded.

Cherry stood up nearly running into Omar and Johnny in her haste to leave the hospital room. "There you are," she said. "Good luck. God help me you will need it. I didn't even get the chance to tell him the wonderful news." She turned and left the room. The nurses followed just as anxious to leave.

Omar held up the fruit basket in his hand. "Here you are, Salim," he said. "We got this for you. Where would you like me to put it?" Salim quietly waved his hand as if to say he didn't care.

Omar sat in the nearby chair vacated by Cherry. Johnny leaned against the door, a skeptical expression on his face.

"Are you feeling better?" Omar asked.

Salim shrugged. " Well as can be expected I guess. They said I'll be out in a few days."

"That's good," Omar smiled and grinned at Johnny who gave a diplomatic nod.

"Wanted to see us," Johnny prompted.

Salim smiled thinly, his voice was soft. "Yes, especially you Johnny." He motioned the blonde man to come closer. "I know we had our problems in the past, but I want to thank you."

"Really," Omar's face broke into a happy grin and he smiled at his lover for support. Johnny's eyebrows widened in surprise, but his face remained impassive.

Salim nodded and his grin turned into one of a cat who caught its victims. "Yes, I wanted to thank you for the fact that my car is now a piece of shit and I have to get a new one! I wanted to thank you that for six hours I couldn't remember my wife's name or my address! Thank you that I have no mobility in my right hand and I may never get it back! Thank you that after 14 hours of reconstructive surgery my nose will continue to be crooked and my canine teeth will be a different color from my other teeth! Thank you that you and your fucking Fascist friends have not only ruined my day as of right now ruined my life!"

Omar's mouth dropped open in surprise glancing from his bedridden relative to his boyfriend and back again. Johnny stood up and for a minute, Omar was afraid that he was going to punch Salim. Instead Johnny smiled. "I accept your thanks and in the same vein, I think you shouldn't thank me. You should thank Omo."

"Why Omar?" Salim asked suspiciously.

" 'Cause if you weren't related to Omar and so important to him, I would have not bothered to defend you," Johnny said. "In fact after what you did, I would have beaten you so hard that you couldn't stand!"

He stormed out of the hospital room. "Johnny," Omar called back, but his lover paid no attention as he walked away.

Omar turned to Salim. Now that he was in a hospital bed, Omar wasn't as afraid of Salim as before. "Salim, that was not necessary! Johnny saved your life. You could have died out there. "

"And it was because of him and his friends that this happened at all!" Salim said. Omar found nothing more to say, so he turned to leave until Salim called him back. "By the way, Omo, Nassar visited me this morning. I told him about you, everything about you and Johnny."

Omar shook his head and glared. "Get well soon, Salim," he spat out in anger before he turned around and left.

Omar and Johnny drove back to the launderette. Neither wanted to say anything, but they were clearly upset. Omar slammed the car door and ran inside the launderette. Johnny followed close behind him.

"Okay, have it out," Johnny said waiting for his normally placid lover to be annoyed or angry. The calm disturbed him more.

Omar waved his hands emphatically. "I don't even know where to begin. All I wanted was for you and Salim to be civil with each other."

"After what he said to me, you want me to be civil," Johnny thundered.

"I'm not excusing what he said," Omar retorted. "I told him so after you left. But I expect for you to at least behave yourself. I don't know if you are aware of this or not, but we are right now in Hell and we need my family's help to get out of it and we don't need you acting like a hooligan!"

Johnny turned from Omar and faced the window. He looked outside at the people walking up and down the streets. A child glanced at the broken window, until her mother grabbed her hand and walked off. He cleared his throat. "I've been thinking," he said. "You could get a couple of other guys to work here for less."

The Pakistani looked down at his feet, the dust on the floor anything but Johnny's face but his voice was determined. "No."

"There're a lot of bodies round South London that can do what I do here," Johnny continued as if unheard.

"No," Omar's voice was more determined and he faced Johnny squarely. "If I just wanted anyone to work here, don't you think that I would have just put an advertisement in the paper and be done with it? I wanted to share this with you."

"I wonder if it's even worth it," Johnny said more to himself than to Omar but he spoke loud enough for his lover to hear.

Omar looked at him in shock. "Of course it is, the time we put in, the things we did to get here! Yes, it's worth it!"

Johnny faced Omar, his arms crossed. "I wasn't talking about the launderette."

Omar came closer. "Neither was I." Omar wrapped his arms around Johnny's waist, but the blond punk once again pulled away. The two young men stood in stony silence until the phone in the office made both jump in surprise.

Omar rolled his eyes and walked to the office fixing Johnny with a look that clearly said "this isn't over."

Johnny gamely followed Omar into the office as he answered. "Powders; Omar Hussein speaking."

"OMAR WHERE IN GOD'S NAME HAVE YOU BEEN?" Omar's father's voice was so loud that the young man pulled the phone away from his ear. Johnny grinned slightly since even he could hear his voice. "Thank God Nassar was here most of the evening," Ali thundered. "I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't."

Omar returned the phone to his ear. "I'm sorry, Papa. There was just some trouble at the launderette and the car broke down."

"I told you the brakes were probably faulty," Ali Hussein muttered. "Are you alone?"

Omar glanced at Johnny wordlessly and sighed. "Yes, I am."

"A likely story," Ali said, his voice icy. "Nassar came from the hospital visiting Salim. He's here now. Omo, the three of us need to have a talk. Come here alone." Ali then pulled away from the phone as if somebody, probably Nassar, Omar guessed wanted to talk to him. The two voices argued for a minute getting more and more frantic. Omar distinctly heard his father say "I do not want that rabble rousing fascist in my flat!" The brothers' voices got softer as once again they argued, until Ali sulked "Fine, have it your way, but I will keep my eye on him." The middle-aged former journalist returned to the phone and spoke again to his son. "Nassar also wants Johnny to come here as well."

Omar pulled away and turned to Johnny. "Papa wants me to come home. Uncle Nassar is there. They want to talk."

"Your father?" Johnny asked. Omar nodded. "With Nassar?" Omar nodded again. "To talk?" Another nod. "Probably about us?" The young Pakistani man shrugged and nodded. "I will be watching your career with great interest." He turned and just about left the office when Omar grabbed his belt loops and pulled him from the door.

"He wants to talk to both of us," Omar said.

"I ain't going," Johnny said. "I ain't going to be pulled into another one."

"It will only work if we are in this together," Omar said determined.

"Are you going?" Johnny asked.

"Are you with me?" Omar shot back.

Johnny rolled his eyes and nodded. Omar then returned to the phone and told his father that they would both arriving at the flat.

St. Bartholomew's Primary School, Lewisham South London 1967- _Johnny kicked the football onto the wall. He practiced a move that he had seen in the footer match the night before and was excited to try it out. The noises of the other children were all around him. None of the other kids offered to play with him and that was how he liked it. Even though he had just turned six, Johnny had something of a reputation as a bully and most of the kids his age were afraid of him. _

_For no reason, Johnny glanced over at another boy playing with some blocks. He was a new student, arrived from "Packet-stan" or whatever country that Miss Twing said. When he spoke, he talked with an accent that many of the other kids made fun of and to Johnny's dismay, Miss Twing sat the new boy, Omar, in the shared desk next to him. No sooner did the boy sit next to him then Johnny already marked his territory. He covered his side with all of his supplies and said "You see this stuff? It's all mine. If you touch any of it, I will knock your block off!" But whenever Johnny turned his head, Omar would sneak one of the supplies and cover his mouth to stifle a giggle as if he didn't take Johnny's threat seriously._

"_Bugging wot," Johnny grumbled not knowing what that word really meant, but he heard his dad say that about someone on TV and it sounded pretty good. _

_He was about to return to his one-on-one game, when loud noises made the boy turn his head in Omar's direction. Two bigger boys were teasing Omar. They had already knocked the block tower down and were holding a lolly over the smaller boy's head. Omar leapt up and tried to grab it from the bigger boys but they both knocked him down. _

_Johnny approached the scene as Omar landed on the ground with a thud and looked up at the boys. The Pakistani boy was smaller and slighter than the two other children, but he faced them down. He bit his lip to keep from wailing but large tears welled up in his dark eyes and fell down his cheeks. The other boy's lip quivered and he could hide his hurt feelings no longer as he gave out a wail and his body shook with sobs. _

_One of the boys laughed until Johnny knocked him down. In a fury the other kid lunged at the smaller boy but Johnny kicked him. Even though the two boys were larger, Johnny was quicker, faster, good with his fists, and his teeth which he bit the main boy on the hand. "You stupid shit!" the other boy yelled, but Johnny wrestled the lollipop from the other boy's hand and stood up. _

_Omar dried his eyes and looked up at the other boy who helped him. He knew that he was Johnny the boy who sat next to him, but he didn't know him that well. The Pakistani boy stood up and took the lollipop from the English boy's hand. _

_He smiled at the other boy who helped him. How could he thank him? But then he remembered this morning, when his Papa found his Mama's change purse for her and how she thanked him. He puckered his lips and leaned over to Johnny. Without another word, Omar gave Johnny a kiss on the lips. _

_Johnny was stunned for a moment, then he wiped his mouth embarrassed. "Eww, what are you, a girl?" he yelled._

"_Johnny, Omar!" a voice called their names. Both boys looked up to see their teacher, Miss Twing standing over them. She wore a lime-green mini dress and her blond hair was cut in a short pixie style. Because of her blond hair, thin frame, and sometimes spacy way of talking many of the kids called her Miss Twiggy, like the model when she wasn't in ear shot. Usually she had a big smile and a sing-song voice when she spoke with the children. But this time her arms were folded and she spoke firmly. "I am going to have to speak to both of your mothers," she warned. _

_Johnny and Omar sat outside the headmaster's office while Miss Twing was inside with the headmaster talking to both Johnny and Omar's mothers. More specifically, Johnny's mother was doing all the talking or yelling rather and the others were listening. _

"_IF MY BOY DID ANYTHING, YOU CAN BET THAT HIS FATHER WILL GIVE HIM THE STRAP WHEN WE GET HOME!" she yelled._

"_Mrs. Burrfoot, please calm down," the headmaster, Mr. Phillips, a small bespectacled man said. "Your son, Jonathan, was in a fight with two other boys at the playground."_

"_Then, he is in big trouble," Amanda Burrfoot declared. Though small, she had an often commanding presence in front of people. Her face was often ruddy from yelling and she showed signs of extra weight. Her hair was as dark as her sons, but it hung in messy curls that she never bothered to do more than brush. Her pink waitress uniform which was a size tight for her smelled of cigarettes as she was called to the school on her break. _

_By contrast, Daviya Hussein seemed more faded and passive. She was a taller than Amanda, but the other's woman's exuberance made her seem invisible. Her dark hair hung neatly around her slender shoulders and her face was pale almost ghostly around her dark eyes. She wore a long gray dress which looked pressed and clean despite the obvious wear on it. Clear glasses hung off her nose until she pushed them up. "Excuse me, but if the altercation was between the other boys and her son," she pointed at Amanda who snorted with disdain. "Why is my Omar in trouble?"_

"_Ooh, your boy too good to go to the headmasters, eh?" Amanda challenged. _

_Amanda's comment was ignored. Mr. Phillips cleared his throat. "Excuse me, but Mrs. Hussein is it customary in India-"_

"_-Pakistan," Miss Twing and Daviya corrected the headmaster. _

"_-Pakistan, I apologize," Mr. Phillips corrected himself. "is it customary in Pakistan for boys to um well kiss other boys?"_

"_Certainly not," Daviya said in shock. "What do you mean?"_

_The headmaster nodded to Miss Twing who stepped forward. "After Johnny fought with the other boys, Omar kissed him on the lips."_

_Daviya's mouth opened in shock, but Amanda doubled over in laughter. "Well looks my boy isn't the only bad one. Who knew your boy was a shirt lifter!" _

_Daviya glared at the other woman then turned back to the teacher and headmaster. "I don't think my son would do anything serious. He is only 5 years old, but I will speak to him when we come home."_

_While the mothers were speaking to Miss Twing and Mr. Phillips, Johnny and Omar sat outside the office glancing at each other. "Thank you for helping me," Omar said. _

"_Right then," Johnny shrugged. They sat in silence and then Johnny spoke. "So you pack a lot of stuff?"_

"_When we moved?" Omar asked. "Yeah, I guess." _

"_No, I meant in Packet-stan," Johnny asked. "Is that why they call it Packet-stan, blokes pack things?"_

_Omar giggled and Johnny blushed in embarrassment. "It's not Packet-stan, my family is from Pakistan," he corrected. "Well we were in Bombay for awhile, that's where my Papa met my Mama." _

"_Why'd you move here?" Johnny asked. He was curious about this other kid. True a lot of children at the school came from other countries, but there was something about Omar that he actually liked. He actually listened when Johnny talked and seemed not to be at all intimidated by him. _

_Omar shrugged. "Papa fought with some people and they didn't want him in the country anymore."_

"_Your dad's a boxer?" Johnny asked._

"_No," Omar said and he sounded the word slowly as he remembered what Papa said that he did for a living. "He's a journ-a-list. He says that he writes the truth, but sometimes people don't like to hear the truth, so that's why we moved here."_

"_Oh, sounds brill," Johnny said. He always liked a good fight. _

"_What does your father do?" Omar asked._

_Johnny looked down. "He hadn't worked in awhile since he was busted out of the factory. He had a bum knee and couldn't stand for very long, so they chucked him out."_

"_Oh," Omar said. "That's sad."_

_Johnny nodded. "Now, mostly he just watches the telly and drinks stuff that he says is bad for me." _

"_You ever tried?" Omar said. _

_Johnny leaned closer as he whispered in secret. "Yeah once, when he wasn't looking. I picked up a bottle and tasted a sip." Omar's eyes widened that Johnny would be so bold. He knew the drinks. His father drank them too, but Omar would never try to taste them."It made me sick. Tasted like fire, it did."_

"_How do you know what fire tastes like?" Omar asked. The office door opened as Miss Twing, Mr. Phillips, and the two mothers stepped out. _

"_Omar, come," Daviya said. Omar jumped off the bench and held his mother's hand. Amanda forcefully pulled Johnny from the bench and walked off. _

"_Mama wait," Omar said in Urdu and he turned to face the other boy._

_Amanda muttered under her breath as she walked away. "Thinks she's the queen of Sheba does she? Damn Paki bitch!" _

_Johnny barely listened to his mother as Omar called to him. Johnny turned around as the other boy ran down the hall and approached Johnny. _

"_What?" Johnny asked. _

_Omar took the lollipop that Johnny rescued earlier out of his pocket. He put it in Johnny's hand and said "Thank you."_

"_Yeah right, then," Johnny said as Omar hurried to join his mother. _

"_Johnny, when we get home you are going to throw that out," Amanda said._

"_Why?" Johnny demanded. _

"_You don't know where that's been," his mother said. "It's probably been in that boy's mouth!"_

"_Fine," Johnny said sticking the lollipop in his pocket. _

_Later that night, Daviya told her husband what happened between Omar and the other boy. Both parents gave Omar a lecture on how to behave and restricted him from watching the telly that night. But later Daviya kissed him and Ali sent his son to bed, ruffled his hair, and tweaked his nose, so he knew that he wasn't in any serious trouble. When Omar went to sleep, he dreamt of that English boy._

_Johnny's mother told his father as soon as they got home. They yelled their heads off at him, then they started fighting with each other. Amanda threw a dish at her husband, George narrowly missing the television but ramming it against the wall. In return, George Burrfoot, a tall stocky balding man, threw a bottle towards his wife._

_Johnny rolled his eyes and walked into his messy room. He blocked out the noise by listening to his small radio and turning up the volume. The station was playing a Rolling Stones song. That's how his parents' fights usually went , they'd be arguing about something, usually about something Johnny did, then they would yell at each other and throw things. The only difference was which parent stormed out for the night. Johnny looked down to see his father slam the door and leave the house. _

_Johnny thumped on the bed and felt around in his pocket. He took out the lollipop. His mum forgot all about it. He opened the wrapper and stuck it in his mouth, thinking of the strange Pakistani boy who gave it to him and smiled. _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Papa Don't Preach

Author's Note: Martin Webster and John Tyndall were the real life organizers of the National Front. I do not know if this speech was a real one ever said by Webster, but it is based on many arguments that I have heard anti-immigrants (including I am ashamed to admit members of my own family.) have made. I do not under any circumstances agree with it.

Ali took another swig of vodka as his brother, Nassar walked into the untidy flat. "Why is it, I see you in the past few days more than I have seen you in the past year and while we're on the subject, where is that son of mine?"

Nassar caught his breath. "In good time."

Ali rolled his eyes and gave a sardonic smile. Sometimes he knew that Nassar often waffled and tap danced around the subject before he got to the main point. Ali tried a different tactic. "Have you heard from Tania?"

"Who?" Nassar asked in terms like he genuinely wanted to forget the daughter who left. "If she wishes to leave, then let her. But she is no longer in this family."

"If that is the way it has to be," Ali agreed. "I hope Omar hasn't followed suit." He shook his head. "No, he wouldn't. He's too loyal, but where is he? He had better not be hurt."

Nassar sighed. He didn't want to tell his brother the news, but there was no stopping it now. "Ali, I consider myself a businessman, first and foremost. I wouldn't interfere. But I am also your brother, so I should let you know. Did Omar tell you about the, um, incident in front of the launderette the other day?"

"Vaguely," Ali said. "Something about a fight and he would be back later. He left yesterday, but I haven't seen him since then."

"Well it was more than that," Nassar said. "Apparently, some of those neighborhood deadbeat children trashed Salim's car and beat him pretty badly. Johnny fought back, got pretty hurt himself."

"Well what goes around comes around," Ali said thinking about the young man that he once knew as his son's best friend. "That's all."

"Well on that respect," Nassar said. "Both Salim and Johnny are fine, though Salim is in the hospital. Apparently, they made quite a mess of the launderette though. The boys have been working on it. In fact I visited Salim this morning and he told me something that I think you should know."

"And we know that every word that Salim speaks is nothing but truth," Ali said sarcastically. They were both aware of their younger cousin's penchant for getting in trouble. He had been a troublemaker since he was a teenager and adulthood hadn't seemed to improve his nature any.

"I wouldn't believe it either, but I had seen it myself," Nassar said. "On the opening of the launderette, they were in the back together putting on clothes."

Ali waved his hands. "What are you talking about?"

"Johnny and Omar," Nassar said. "Salim told me that they are more than friends. That they are –well that way with each other."

Ali laughed bitterly as though he didn't believe him, but then he stopped. Nassar knew that when Ali didn't return with any comment, he saw and knew the truth of his brother's words. "I had suspected it all along. They were friends, I told myself. Johnny was like a brother to him. Omar would never do something like that. He will find a nice girl and forget about him. It's just a phase he is going through… for the past 19 years." He sighed. "What lies we tell ourselves to avoid acknowledging the truth."

"I didn't want to interfere at all, because I still think it makes good business sense for them to work together," Nassar insisted. "If we get him married and he keeps his relationships discreet, there is no reason that we need to interfere with this."

Ali's face reddened. Nassar knew he should have kept quiet, but he couldn't help himself, as usual. "I do not want that bum in my son's life! I don't want them working together or even seeing each other!"

"That Johnny's a good worker. According to Omar they have known each other for a long time. Why do you hate him so much," Nassar asked.

Ali picked up the telephone, not answering his brother's query. "That boy will only make him miserable," he muttered. "I am going to call the launderette and if they are together. They will hear from me!" He dialed the phone number.

His son's soft voice answered the phone. Ali tried to keep calm, but instead rage filled him. "OMAR, WHERE IN GOD's NAME HAVE YOU BEEN??!!"

The elderly man listened to his son's excuse about the car breaking down. He rolled his eyes deciding to play along with the boy's deception. "I told you the brakes were probably faulty." Ali ignored Nassar shaking his head and mouthing 'No they weren't.' "Are you alone?"

"Yes I am," Omar answered after a long pause.

Ali knew his son was lying. "Nassar came from the hospital visiting Salim. He's here now! Omo, the three of us need to have a talk. Come here, alone."

"The four of us," Nassar corrected. Ali pulled the phone away from his ear and turned to his brother. "Johnny should come too."

"No," Ali declared. "I do not want that rabble rousing fascist in my flat, ever!"

"Do you really want to throw him out of Omar's life before hearing his say?" Nassar asked.

Ali sighed. He knew that Nassar played with Ali's long-forgotten sense of justice and fairness. He sighed. "Fine, have it your way! I will keep an eye on him!"He returned to the phone and when he spoke his voice was icy. "Nassar also wants Johnny to come here as well."

Omar pulled away from the phone obviously arguing with Johnny. He returned to the phone. "Alright, Papa, we're both coming."

"You had better," Ali said as he hung up.

Ali and Nassar waited as the door unlocked. Omar and Johnny entered the flat. The older men looked at the younger men, Ali's face buried rage and Nassar's torn between disappointment and curiosity. Omar didn't look at either of his relatives instead only down at his shoes. Johnny's face remained impassive. He glanced over at Omar. "Are we here to name the murderer, then?" he said dryly.

Ali waved the younger men down. "Have a seat." Omar seated on his father's bed. Johnny pulled out a small stool and sat down.

Ali glanced at his son, not looking at Johnny's direction. "Omar, you know that I don't like being deceived especially by you."

"I know, Papa," Omar said.

"Then is it true that you and Johnny are fucking each other?"

"Papa," Omar said shocked, but then sighed. "Yes, it's true. We are lovers."

"And is it true that you have been sneaking around behind our backs indulging in this affair?"

Omar sighed. "Yes, it's true."

"And how far do you plan to go with this affair?" Ali commanded. "You know what happens when you disobey us. This family cannot bear another loss after Tania's departure as well."

"There's no reason why it has to," Nassar suggested. Both Omar and Ali glanced at him "You can marry and if you wish to keep your relationship with Johnny as well, the business, and no one has to know except the four of us."

Omar's eyes narrowed. "Because it worked so well between you and Rachel!" he snapped.

Nassar glared at his impudent nephew. "You are starting to get a big mouth! If you wish to keep all of this that we agreed to then it's the only way."

Ali stared right down at his son."Well, Omo, what is it going to be?"

Omar glanced desperately from his father, to his uncle, to his lover. They were staring him down waiting for his answer. He felt ripped apart in several directions and didn't know how to bring himself together. "I don't know," he said quietly.

Johnny, who had been quiet until then, raised his hand. "Can I say something?" All heads turned to the punk. He only looked at Omar."Hard decision for you, yeah?" Omar didn't get a chance to answer "I'm making this real easy for you." Without another word, he handed Omar the key to the launderette.

Omar held the key in his hand, at first too stunned, and then he reacted. "Johnny, no, you can't leave!"

"I think you leave me no choice, none of you, "Johnny stormed.

Nassar was about to take out his chequebook. "Then I will pay you severance for the remainder of the work, you may pick up your final paycheque next Friday."

"No," Johnny declared. "I won't accept any money from you. Only Omar, I did the work for him."

Omar mechanically took out his chequebook and wrote the amount then he motioned for Johnny to accompany him on the staircase. Johnny followed. "It doesn't have to be this way, Johnny, we can still be together." He reached over to kiss him, but this time Johnny resisted.

"How?" he asked. "Are you willing to fight people like Genghis and Salim, even Tania, the rest of your life? People who want to break us apart one way or another?"

"There are people worth fighting for," Omar said.

Johnny snorted. "Yeah, I saw you in there, you were the real warrior. Really taking your father and uncle's commands like a little eunuch, you were."

Omar glared at him."It's my family, they are different. They expect me to do certain things. I have responsibilities-"

"-you're just too content to let them run your life," Johnny said. "That way you don't have to think about what you really want!"

"I can't just abandon them!," Omar objected. "My uncle already lost one of his children and Papa- well look at him. He needs someone to take care of him. It's family- something you know very little about!"

Johnny grabbed the cherub, crumpled in his hand. "You shut up about shit that you don't know anything about!"

"Where are you going?" Omar snapped. "Since you had so many other wonderful offers until I came along!"

"Where I belong," Johnny replied. "So should you."

Omar shook his head. "Don't go back to that, please. They don't care about you, not the way I do. Here you have people who love you and know you can be more than that!"

"Which is why I'm walking away," Johnny declared. "Your father told me to make sure that you went to college, here's your big chance. You got a lot going for you. "

Omar wrapped his arms around Johnny. "So do you and I won't let you go."

Johnny pulled away and held the cherub in front of Omar's face. "Sorry, you're not my boss anymore and you can't tell me what to do." Johnny looked once more into those innocent bright eyes that always drove him wild, then turned away before he could change his mind. Omar leaned onto the railing and willed himself to stand in that position to keep from tearing after him and begging Johnny to stay. He waited until he saw Johnny leave the stairs and close the door on the flat, before he turned around and walked back inside. He felt numb and emotionless as he faced his father and uncle. "He's gone," he told his father and uncle surprised at how flat his voice sounded, but ignored the screaming of his heart.

Nassar clapped his hands together and stood. "Well that was pleasant. I must say, but family affairs have taken my entire morning so I must be off. I do have a business to run." He nodded to Ali and clapped Omar on the shoulder."See you tomorrow at the launderette?"

Omar nodded. "Uncle, I need to put an advertisement in the paper for more help."

"I will help you," the uncle said. "but you know I want to meet anyone you hire." Omar nodded as his uncle left.

Omar waited until the door closed, then he glanced outside the window to see if he can see Johnny walking down the street. There were many people walking around, but no sign of Johnny.

"I know that you are upset right now, but we are doing what is best for you," Ali said, "You will thank us later." Omar silently thought _Maybe, but I hate all of you right now._

"You can also return to college," Ali suggested.

"Maybe," Omar said. "I'm going for a walk."

"You are not going to find that bum are you?" Ali asked.

"No, Papa," Omar replied. "I have no intention of looking for him." And Omar didn't.

***

_1972, Lewisham- Johnny and Omar ran out of the theatre talking and laughing loudly. They had seen their favorite film, The Godfather for the fifth time. The two friends laughed as they quoted their favorite lines. Omar circled around Johnny like a vulture coming to his prey lowering his voice to sound mean and menacing like Michael Corleone (as mean and menacing as an 11-year-old could sound). _

"_We insist that that it be held in a public place, like a restaurant or a bar where there'll be other people so I'll feel safe," he said. "They're going to search me when I first meet them, right? So, I can't have a weapon on me. But, if Clemenza can figure out a way to have a weapon planted for me, then I'll kill them both." _

_Johnny burst out laughing and pulled Omar by the shoulders as the Pakistani boy tried to pull away. "What are you gonna do? Nice college boy didn't want to get mixed up in the family business. Now you want to gun down a police captain. Why? Because he slapped you in the face a little! What do you think this is the Army where you can shoot 'em from a mile away? No you got to get up like this-" Johnny grabbed a giggling Omar from behind him-" and badda-bing, you blow out their brains all over your nice Ivy League suit!" Omar laughed until Johnny accidentally threw him on the ground. "Sorry, man."_

_Omar stopped laughing," That's alright," he said as Johnny helped him stand."Want to come back to my place? Mama and Papa won't mind." _

"_Sure," Johnny said. He didn't offer to let Omar come to his home because the last time that he visited, Johnny's parents gave him a hard time about it. Amanda made loud derogatory comments about the young boy and his family. George was quiet enough, but barely talked to or even looked at the boy even asking Johnny loud enough for Omar to hear if he had any "other friends that could come over." _

"_Besides we have that exam to study for," Omar reminded him._

_Johnny snorted. "Don't remind me." _

_Johnny and Omar sat in Omar's family's sitting room. Ali read the newspaper as he explained the meeting that he had attended to his wife. "We plan to seize this country from those who corrupt it, those who profit on others for the color of their skin."_

_Daviya shook her head. She knew when her husband got started, he would never stop. "Ali, we are the guests here. The English has provided for our people since Kashmir-"_

"_-The British never forget the Kashmir dispute of 1947," Ali interrupted. "It's supposed to make us feel like cared for children." He said with a wink at both young boys. "Davi, it is my right to speak of injustice after all, even in this country."_

"_Just be careful, Ali," Daviya said. "I don't want to be removed from another country." _

"_You're mother is the cautious one," Ali said smiling at Omar. Omar grinned back. One thing that he always admired about his father was he spoke of national and international problems in front of the young boy. He never thought Omar was "too young to understand anything." "If it weren't for her, I would probably be strung up somewhere by my neck."_

_Daviya shook her head, "Ali please," She turned to the boys hoping to change the subject. "How are you two doing in your studies?" _

_Omar and Johnny looked up from studying for their upcoming history exam with disdainful groans. "Maybe, if you two studied more and didn't waste time at the cinema watching violent films you wouldn't be in this mess," Daviya said dryly. _

"_Mama," Omar blushed embarrassed. _

"_It doesn't matter anyway how we do," Johnny observed. "It ain't like we're ever gonna need this or get farther anyway."_

"_That may not be true," Omar argued._

"_No, it's true," Johnny said. "Everyone I know has been here all their lives and they ain't going anywhere. That's where you and I are going to be, mate. We're gonna be stuck here on the dole like everyone else! This stuff ain't gonna matter at all!"_

"_Johnny, that's a terrible thing to say," Daviya corrected the young boy whom she thought of as almost a second son._

_Ali instead shrugged. "No, Davi," Ali said. "He's right." Daviya and the boys turned to Ali. "You're absolutely right, Johnny. Why should you try for anything else? If you are content to let people think that you are less than what you are, why should you try for anything better?"_

_Johnny looked up at the older man, confused. "What do you mean?"_

"_Listen to me, Johnny, you as well, Omar," Ali told the young boys. "There is no reason in the world why either one of you can't be better than the circumstances around you, go to college, become journalists, doctors, anything that you desire. The only thing stopping either of you is the power that others have over you by saying that you are too dark colored, or too poor, or you are in the wrong religion. Do either of you know where that power comes from?"_

"_Leaders who pass laws discriminating against others?" Omar asked._

"_That is an effect, Omo, not the cause," Ali told his son._

"_Blokes who listen to them and beat up people if they don't agree with them?" Johnny asked._

"_Close, Johnny," Ali answered. "That power of hatred, racism, class distinction, these things come because people are content to let it happen. Why should it bother me? It's none of my business. These bigots will always be the same why bother fighting? Everyone I know is on the dole, how will I be any different? If you don't question, challenge, or fight against the circumstances others force you into, then you are just as guilty as those who pass these discriminations on others."_

_Omar nodded, but then Johnny glanced at his watch. "Damn-" He glanced over at Daviya. "Sorry, Mrs. Daviya. Thanks, Mr. Ali, I'll keep it in mind. I gotta go home."_

_Omar blinked confused. "You're never in a hurry to go home. Where are you going?"_

_Johnny picked up his books. "Just going home. Mum and Dad gave me what for last time I walked in late, so I decided to be a good boy today."_

"_Okay," Omar said sounding like he didn't believe Johnny. With good reason, Johnny thought. "I'll see you at school. Bye, Mrs. Daviya; Mr. Ali." _

_*****_

_Johnny obediently followed his father into the small enclosed hall. George hardly ever took his son on outings, but he said this meeting was a special one because children were allowed to attend. The building was already filled with men, women, and some kids his age or a little older. He nodded at a boy in his neighborhood that he knew by sight. The boy nodded back, but returned to the conversation with his other friends. _

"_Listen closely, Johnny," George said to his son. "With people like this, we'll take back what's ours from those thieves!" _

_Johnny nodded sort of half-listening. He knew that his Dad spent a great deal of time complaining about the immigrants in the area. The young boy rolled his eyes, but found a seat on a bench behind his father, but close to some of the other boys. The crowd gradually sat and aside from some murmured comments as a man stood next to the podium holding up his hands for silence. Johnny knew the man was Martin Webster, he had seen him a few times on the telly and heard his father talk about him and John Tyndall as the "only men in England that made any sense." _

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, children as well," he began. "I apologize for using such a small hall for our meeting, but I prefer to be close to you, so I can talk to you as a friend not a leader."_

"_Why don't you speak louder, friend?" a sarcastic voice called from the background. Many people laughed including Johnny and his father. _

"_Can you hear me now?" Webster yelled. _

"_Sure mate," the man called back. _

_Webster returned to his speech. "No matter where you work, factories, dockyards, store clerks, dressmakers, grocers. You could be as old as 90 or as young as 13, but we all have one thing in common. We know our country is being invaded!" There was some muttering of agreement from the crowd. "How many of you lost your jobs because our government brings someone in from another country?" Some hands went up, while Webster continued. "How many of you see more true Englishmen and women in the dole lines than immigrants?" More hands came up. "How many of you can't afford to feed your families, because some thief from Africa, or Asia, or some other blasted country works for less money and makes you serve them rather than the other way around?" More hands came up including George's. "Are you angry at what this country has become?" There were a lot of shouts in the affirmatives. "Don't get angry, seek action! Action to send these invaders, these enemies, back to the countries that they came from! They invade our homes, our schools, force their way of living on us, on our children! They won't be happy until we are assimilated into their way of thinking or destroy us all!"_

_Johnny shook his head confused. He heard about this, but come on he thought all immigrants aren't bad. He glanced at his father who was paying Webster rapt attention. His face was more energized, more active than he had seen him in awhile. Usually, he stared at the television in a drunken stupor. _

_Johnny turned back to the man. He was wrong, he thought! He thought of Omar. He wasn't like that, he isn't trying to invade or destroy me. Johnny fought an urge to plug his ears from Webster's words as he recalled his friend. He and Omar had fun together. They played together, shared secrets with each other. His parents were the nicest people in the world. He wasn't afraid to talk to them about anything the way he sometimes was with his own parents. Daviya was so sweet and kind, motherly towards her son's best friend. Ali was great, always quick with a word of advice or a joke. They never minded when Johnny came over or how long he stayed. Omar and his family weren't at all like the people that he described, Johnny knew it! He was wrong! _

_As if reading his mind, Webster pointed at the people in the audience. "I know what you are thinking," he said. "But, I know immigrants personally. The man who works at the grocery store is from India and he gives to charities. The woman who styles my hair is from the West Indies and she gives to her church. My daughter is dating an immigrant who comes from a good family. Our children go to school with immigrants and they are best friends with them."-Johnny stood up straight as the man spoke. He felt like Webster was speaking to him directly. Webster's voice was soft, but then he gained momentum as he banged on the podium. "It is all a lie! That is what they want you to think! They catch flies with honey not vinegar. They shake your hands with one hand, but hold a knife in the other! They will fight you, and use you to further their gain! They want to force their politics, their religions, on you until all true-born Brits are the minority until we are the ones serving and starving in our own country! You have to stop them first! You have to take action! Fight against those who claim to be oppressed before it is you who are oppressed!"_

_Johnny felt sick. Was this man telling the truth? Johnny shook his head, "No," he whispered to himself. He remembered what Mr. Ali said earlier about "challenging circumstances that one is forced into." Is this what they were doing? But did that mean fighting Omar? He felt nauseous and the room spun until he was dizzy. He tapped his father on the shoulder, but he wasn't paying attention. Instead he was giving Webster his undivided attention, cheering as the other participants cheered. The musty smell overpowered Johnny and the crowds pushed into him. He edged through the crowd to the front door. He thought maybe his father would call him back, but he didn't. He was so wrapped up in the speech. _

_Johnny leaned against a wall catching gulps of fresh air. He couldn't think clearly because Webster's words filled him. He gulped in the fresh air and willed his body and mind to remain steady. He glanced from right to left and took out a cigarette that he sneaked from his mum's purse. He lit the cigarette taking too big a drag. He coughed as the tar and nicotine overwhelmed his throat. _

"_Want to get a smoke," a voice said. Johnny turned around to see the boy facing him. _

"_Yeah," Johnny said trying to sound cool. He offered the other cigarette to the boy. "Johnny." _

"_Gary," the other boy said. He looked closer and Johnny could see the boy wore a gray t-shirt that said "Genghis Khan lives." They shook hand. "Had to get out of there, eh?"_

"_Kind of boring to hear about after awhile," Johnny said sniffing with disdain figuring he wouldn't catch Johnny's real reason. "I hear about it so often at home, it gets old quick."_

"_Yeah, but real neat though, like we're soldiers fighting against enemies everywhere," Gary said._

_Johnny gave a disdainful laugh as though he were beyond the people in the other room. "Wanna get out of here?"_

"_Where to?" Gary asked. _

"_Dunno, anywhere," Johnny said. He stood up to leave. "Coming?" Gary stood up and glanced at the other boy. He glanced over at the hallway, hearing the cheers. But instead he followed the retreating youth. _

_Gary held the door open as Johnny sneaked out, his arms full of stereos and TV's. "Come on," he said. The two pre-teens stumbled out of the electronics store, when Gary tumbled into Johnny and the two fell out of the store. "Damn, you stupid fucker!," Johnny yelled at Gary. The alarm filled the night as the two boys ran into the night. "Catch you later," Johnny yelled running from the store to the right. _

"_You too," Gary said running to the left. _

_The rain pelted outside the flat as Omar heard the tap on the fire escape window. He looked up to see a very wet Johnny leaning on the escape outside. Omar jumped in surprise and turned on the light. "Johnny, what are you doing?" _

_Johnny gasped and gulped in the air as Omar invited him inside. "I'm in trouble, can I shag out at your place tonight?" At first, Johnny ran home but he heard his parents in the middle of an argument. His father had left the meeting, shortly after he did and his mum was accusing him of not keeping an eye on Johnny. The two were in the middle of an all-out shouting match that Johnny didn't feel like walking in the middle of. So, instead he ran for the safety of Omar's home. He was out of breath and completely soaked by the time he reached his friend's home. _

_Omar glanced at the bedroom door. "I' m not supposed to have guests over on a school night," he shrugged. "If Mama comes in and she isn't wearing her glasses, she won't see you. She's practically blind without them, but if it's Papa hide under the bed. They'll knock first." Omar moved aside to give his friend more room on his bed and Johnny almost followed. Perhaps it was the lost helpless look on his friend's face, or just the fact that he was wet, but Omar stammered. "Don't you want to get undressed first?"_

"_Yeah right," Johnny said. "Nearly forgot." He removed his pants, shirt, and jacket quickly. As he unlaced his shoes and removed his socks, he suddenly felt self-conscious at Omar staring at him. Omar blushed embarrassed and turned away. _

"_Sorry," he said feeling ashamed, but oddly flushed at the sight of seeing his friend remove his clothing. He turned away. _

_Johnny crawled into bed next to Omar. He was about to say thank you, when the two boys jumped at a knock on the door. "Omar, are you all right?" Ali's voice called. _

_Omar waved for Johnny to hide under the bed. "Yes, Papa, I'm fine," Omar said sitting up straight as his father opened the door. He rubbed his eyes feigning sleep and took on an innocent smile. To complete the disguise, he circled his hands as though he were caught in the middle of prayer, his face the look of pure divine innocence._

"_I thought I heard a noise," Ali said concerned. _

"_There were some people outside, Papa," Omar said. "They were making too much noise. I'm all right though." _

_Ali smiled. "Well all right, then. Good night, son." _

_He closed the door and Johnny was about to peer out from under the bed. "Not yet," Omar hissed. Johnny hid back under the bed._

_Just as Omar predicted his father opened the door. "Good night, Johnny," Ali dryly said._

"_Good night, Mr. Ali," a sheepish voice called from under the bed._

"_Omar, it's late," Ali said sounding exhausted. "We'll discuss your freedom or lack thereof tomorrow."_

"_Okay, Papa," Omar muttered upset about being caught. He waved for Johnny to come up from under the bed. _

_Ali walked back to the bedroom, where Daviya was still reclined reading a book of poetry. "Johnny spent the night didn't he?" Daviya said._

_Ali nodded. Daviya closed her book and hesitated trying to phrase this question as careful as she could.  
"Ali, does their relationship make you nervous?"_

"_No, should it?" Ali asked. _

"_Omar and Johnny are together a great deal," Daviya began. "They never argue, well hardly ever. They go places together, study. I think Johnny's here more than at his home, though having met his mother a few times, I can't blame him. They are inseparable."_

"_Oh no, whatever shall we do," Ali said unenthused. "Daviya, they are young boys. Boys are like that. I had a lot of friends that age." _

"_I just wonder if he's a good influence on Omar," Daviya said. "There is something about him that disturbs me." _

"_He's very bright," Ali said. "Observant, I think he's just the type of boy that Omar should befriend."_

"_I'm just wondering if maybe Omar would be better off having friends that are more well more-"_

"_-More like himself, you mean," Ali asked. Daviya looked down, but nodded her head. "Davi, Omar cannot hide among his own people forever. If he ever wants to have any hope of living in this country, he must meet them at their level. Maybe the fact that Johnny and Omar are such close friends could be a good omen."_

"_I know, but I worry-," Daviya began when her husband cut her off._

"_Daviya you worry entirely too much," Ali said. "Johnny's a good boy and it's late. I don't wish to discuss this further." Daviya lay down. She knew when her husband got that snippy tone that their conversations were over. They kissed each other, then Ali leaned over and turned off the light._

"_No, no," Omar listened as Johnny was muttering in his sleep. He appeared to be having a nightmare. Omar tried to wake his friend up, but he wouldn't listen. Whatever it was, the nightmare was clearly disturbing him. The boy's teeth chattered and he moved his arms and hands to defend himself. _

"_Johnny, it's just a dream," Omar whispered. But once again, he didn't hear. Omar did the only thing that he could think of: He wrapped his arms around his friend and leaned closer. _

"_I'm here, Johnny," Omar said into the other boy's ear. Johnny struggled for a few more seconds, but then relaxed as though he felt Omar's presence, even through the dream. "No one's going to hurt you." _

_Martin Webster's words filled Johnny's brain as he lay down to sleep. He couldn't block them out of his mind and as he slept he dreamt that he was running through South London. Everywhere he went he was being chased by these evil people. He didn't know who they were, he just knew that they wanted to hurt him. He tried to fight them, but there were too many. He just began to run. The boy ran until he was overcome and backed into a corner. No matter where they were, the evil people kept following him. They were dressed in similar suits and were all foreign looking. He fell down and felt someone wrap their arms around him._

_As if from far away, Johnny heard a soft familiar voice say, "I'm here Johnny. No one's going to hurt you." Omar, Johnny inwardly sighed. He relaxed wrapped in his friend's arms and in the knowledge that he wasn't being chased and that it was all a dream. He felt safe and comfortable. Once more Webster's words came to Johnny. "No," he said to himself. "Omar isn't like that at all." _


	3. Chapter 3

Love and Rockets

Chapter Three: Eyes Without a Face

Omar rubbed his forehead in annoyance not paying attention to his growing fatigue as he spoke on the phone to the irate caller. "I assure you Mrs. Buck- Bouquet," he corrected before the caller repeated the pronunciation of her name for the 10th time. "My employees and I are perfectly capable of handling your intimate delicate apparels. " She continued before he interrupted. "Even your rose pink Princess Margaret style undergarments." Inwardly, Omar couldn't help but snigger at the words. "Thank you madam, good-bye." He was about to hang up the phone as the Bucket woman continued to natter on about her son, Sheridan. _He sounds like a man I should date_, Omar thought sarcastically. He made a scratching sound with his throat. "What madam, I can't hear you…very bad reception here, good-bye," He hung up the phone and took a deep breath to ignore the constricting feeling that gnawed his chest.

It wasn't the phone call from that awful Bucket woman that bothered him. He had been feeling these sudden surges of panic for months now. He felt it when his father became ill and disoriented and he could only stand by helplessly and watch. He felt it whenever he stayed late at the launderette certain that something was going to go wrong. He felt it whenever he attended one of his family's claustrophobic gatherings in an attempt to get him engaged and all he could do was smile and nod. The more that he tried to hide the panic, the more that it built up inside him. He felt like his insides were wound up tight like a wire, tightening ever further waiting to pop.

Each time, he would be paralyzed with an unnamed fear that something would go wrong. No matter how many times, he tried to assure himself that it would not. The young man gripped the table until his knuckles turned white. He took a few deep breaths as though he were gasping for air, then he slowly brought himself back to reality_. I beat it for now_, Omar thought. For now that was enough.

He left the office and greeted Gigi and Del. The two younger teenagers had responded to the advertisement that Omar had placed. Gigi, a short girl with shorn white-blond hair and dressed in a magenta slashed sweater and Guess jeans with stickers. Gigi helped a young woman put what appeared to be her entire wardrobe into a small washer assuring her that they would wash. The other woman occasionally cursed and threw various items on the floor in a rage. Omar nodded for Gigi to put the fallen clothes away. He made a mental note to call the rag and bone men to pick them up, if she didn't want them. Omar continued to help other customers, preventing some young punks from putting food in a washer, and other activities when he walked closer to Del. Del worked on a dryer that looked like it was finally reaching the end of its working days.

"How's it going Del?" Omar asked. The tall black 17 year old broke from his humming to break the tedium and stood next to his employer. He towered over Omar by a head as he positioned his fingers like a gun and pretended to shoot the washing machine.

"Last day, I'm afraid, mate," Del replied. Omar leaned over to glance at the wiring. Gigi followed close behind also observing.

"You know it looks like the wiring right there is loose," she said.

"Nah, definitely the spigot, "Del suggested. "We need a spanner to fix this thing."

"No, it needs to have the wiring replaced," Gigi continued testily. Omar rolled his eyes. Gigi and Del almost had an act going as though they shared the same brain. They constantly argued, almost turning their speech into a game. He knew some of their history. The two grew up together, as best friends and occasionally dated when no one else was around. So, they had a strange almost brother-sister relationship that they continued to pursue even through their teen years.

"Gigi, shouldn't you be helping other people?" Omar reminded the blond girl.

"Ah the lady was just giving away all her ex's stuff," Gigi replied. "She wasn't planning on washing them. I guess she wanted to throw them to his new girlfriend or something."

"Terrific," Omar said sarcastically. "Let's take a look at what's left of this useless thing." He leaned closer to examine the workings. He was so wrapped up in the washing machine that he didn't notice the door open until he felt another presence behind him and heard a female voice say "So this is what you do in your spare time."

Omar recognized the voice, and stepped aside. He grinned excited! "Oh my god, Tania!" He embraced his cousin. "It's been almost a year –where have you been?"

Gigi and Del looked at the woman exchanging amused glances. "Oh sorry, Tania Hussein my cousin this is Gigi Deville and Del Johnston. They work for me." Tania shook their hands.

"Nice to meet you," Tania replied. Then she turned to Omar. "There's a lot that I need to say to you. Is there somewhere private that we can talk?"

Omar looked around confused at the crowd of people. This was a busy time, but- He turned to Gigi and Del. "Can you two watch the launderette for a half hour or so? I'll be right back."

"Sure, go," Del offered. "We'll call you if there's an emergency.

"Yeah, like if the machines spring a leak and the whole place is flooded." Gigi said excited.

"Or if thieves come in and hold the place up for ransom," Del agreed.

"Or an earthquake hits and suddenly we're the only survivors," Gigi added.

"The thieves would be more likely," Del reminded her.

"Yeah, but the flood would leave use less time to get help," Gigi

Yeah but-"Del continued until Omar interrupted.

Omar nodded interrupted the two knowing if he didn't stop them, they would never shut up. "Alright, you two, I understand. I leave it in your capable hands." He turned to Tania. "Step into my office." He invited.

He waited until she was seated and offered her a drink. "Gigi and Del, you have to love them. So how have you been? What's been up with you?"

"Well it's a long story," Tania replied. "I got as far as Paris, and I ran out of money. So, I ended up working in this bistro. It was a sort of place that had a lot of artists, intellectuals, writers, activists. It was a very unique crowd. It was all really exciting. I attended a few meetings, even sat in on some classes and I met Latika Milani." Omar smiled impressed. Tania nodded. "You know of her."

Omar nodded wryly. "Yeah, the writer. She left Pakistan about the same time as my father. In fact they were friends, well that's rather a loose term-"

"-They used to fight constantly," Tania repeated. "When I told her my surname she asked if I was- now what were her exact words? Oh yes, 'that stubborn old fool' Ali Hussein's daughter."

"As I recall, Papa had a few choice phrases about Latika as well," Omar answered.

The cousins laughed good naturedly. "So, Latika took me in and hired me as her assistant and researcher so now I'm here in London doing some research for her."

"Well that's nice," Omar smiled. "I'm glad to see that things are working out for you." There seemed to be an unspoken tension as though Omar left the "for you" unsaid.

"There is another reason, I'm here, actually three reasons" Tania replied. "The first reason is for Latika and the second well think of this as 'Tania Hussein's Apology Tour 1985.' There has been a lot going on and I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I left things particularly with you and Johnny. I owe you and Johnny an apology. I knew that you two were in love and I was jealous, angry and stupid. I should never have tried to come between you. I hope that you both can forgive me."

"Well I can't speak for Johnny, but I do," Omar answered. "I think we all behaved pretty badly, then."

"Thanks," Tania replied. "Where's Johnny? I should talk to him as well."

Omar's face fell. "He no longer works here."

Tania glanced around. "But you two are still together-right?"

"Point of fact," Omar replied shortly. "He no longer works at the launderette and he is no longer in my life. In fact, I haven't seen him since the day that he left." Tania clicked her tongue in sympathy.

"Well can I be honest," Tania asked. "Why? You two seemed willing to face anything. He told once that he wanted to stay and fight it out with you."

"Well he obviously didn't mean it," Omar said sharply. "If he wanted to go, then that's his business."

"And you don't think about him at all?" Tania inquired.

Omar shook his head not wanting to say more. Technically, he once thought of Tania as a rival. How could he tell her of the erotic dreams that he still had sometimes waking up in a cold sweat missing him? Could he mention the many times that he saw the back of another man's head and had to bite his lip to call out Johnny's name before the man turned around and he realized that it wasn't him? Could he tell her that he dialed the phone number that Johnny gave him, just to hang up when he heard his mother's voice? That he alternated between hating himself for acting so silly and love sick, but also hated himself for letting Johnny get away from him and now he had no way of finding or reaching him.

He couldn't tell Tania about these feelings, so he decided to change the subject. "Is your Apology Tour going to extend to your father?"

"Ah, now that's a subject that I don't want to discuss," Tania replied sheepishly. "I haven't seen him and I would rather keep my return here in London a secret from him."

"He misses you Tania," Omar replied. "You know how he is, he won't say so but he does I can tell."

"If I go back, then that undoes everything that I've accomplished the past few months," Tania replied. "I can't…I can't face him yet."

Omar laughed bitterly. "I'm sure that your father will understand that you have a life of your own. It's not like you're married or pregnant."

Tania's face broke into a radiant grin and Omar wondered if he had spoken too soon. "Which brings me to my third reason for being in London. " She smiled as she glanced out the front window. A man and a small girl entered the launderette. "I want you to meet someone."

Omar let the young woman into the main part of the launderette where she greeted the man. "Hey you," she said. Tania took the newcomer's hand.

"Hello there," the man said kissing Tania. He was a thin man with neck-length dark hair. He had a large grin that instantly lit up a room and his blue eyes seemed to shine with enthusiasm. The girl was a perfect image of the man with her dark hair cut in a page boy style and her shining blue eyes. She tapped Tania on the shoulder.

The girl jumped excited. "Guess what? Papan took me to Trafalgar Square where I talked to the pigeons."

Tania laughed. "But you talk the pigeons all the time at home."

"Yes, but these are English pigeons. They might say something different," the girl insisted.

Tania smiled and turned to Omar. "Omar, I would like you to meet Max and Frida Ruben."

Omar shook Max's hand and waved hello to Frida. "Nice to meet both of you." He glanced at Tania surprised. "You haven't even been away a whole year!"

Tania and Max laughed as they held hands and he grabbed Frida by the shoulder. "Actually, she's mine," Max replied. "I met Tania in Paris." Omar noticed that Max had a slight European accent coming from several places, French perhaps or German.

Tania nodded. "He's a friend of Latika's and she introduced us when he was giving a gallery show n Paris."

"You're an artist, then?" Omar asked.

Max nodded. "I'm a painter. I grew up all over Europe and eventually found my way to Paris with my little girl." He absently hugged Frida.

"Papan," Frida blushed embarrassed.

Max continued. "I met Latika and she introduced me to her lovely new assistant."

"Love at first sight?" Omar asked playfully.

Hardly," Tania glowered.

"Let's just say that it took some time but I got her around," Max said with pride.

"I'm still not completely sure that you did," Tania smirked but she smiled as though she were teasing and kissed Max who returned the affection.

"Are you my Uncle Omar?" Frida asked impudently.

Omar kneeled down at the little girl and Tania held her back embarrassed. "Frida, I already told you. Your father and I are not married."

"Well we discussed it," Max prompted.

"Nothing definite though," Tania reminded him.

"You know that Frida would like other relatives," Max reminded her.

"That's alright," Omar interrupted the two. He leaned down next to Frida. "You can call me Uncle Omar if you like. I don't mind. So what has Tania told you about me?" He asked.

The girl put her hand on her chin as if she were thinking. "Hmm, she said that you were really nice." Omar smiled. "And she said that you were so naïve that you would believe anything that anybody told you."

Omar smirked. "Did she now?" He glanced at Tania's flushed complexion. "Well maybe I should tell you about how she caught my attention at a party once."

Tania started and hit her cousin over the head. "No, you won't!" she laughed.

"Hey Omar," Del interrupted. "Some guy is unhappy with the service and wants to complain to the manager. Oh yeah and the Bucket woman called again." He sighed and made a circle motion by his ear. "Mad woman."

Omar sighed. "I have to go duty calls."

Tania nodded. "We have to go as well anyway. I have to do some work and Max has a gallery opening tonight." Max nodded.

"How long are you staying?" Omar asked.

Tania shrugged. "I don't know a week or two, I think. " She pulled closer to Omar. "I mean what I said about Johnny. You two should try to make it work."

"Are you going to talk to your father?" Omar asked. When she wouldn't answer, he snapped. "Then if you can't control your own life, don't ask me how to run mine!" Tania glared and stomped out of the launderette with Max and Frida in tow. "See you Omar," she said as she left.

Omar continued to work into the evening. It was a busy enough day that the young businessman didn't have to focus on his internal feelings. He continued to aid the customers, speak to fellow business people in the neighborhood about an upcoming meeting, square away the final policies with the insurance agent (He sighed glad that he and his uncle got that up and running), and talk to various people over the phone. The panic surges continued throughout the day. When he got a free second, Omar dialed a number.

"Hello?" Salim's voice answered.

"Hello Salim," Omar tried to sound cheerful. "How's Cherry?"

"Well she's constantly throwing up, complaining that she can no longer fit into her clothing, and blaming me for getting her in this predicament, other than that she's fine," Salim answered sarcastically.

"Well I'm sorry," Omar said.

"It doesn't matter, I'm getting a son that's all I care about," Salim replied. . Cherry was pregnant and would be delivering in a couple of months. Even though, Omar tried to maintain cordial relations with the couple, privately he felt sorry for their child. "Anyway, you sound like shit. Care to make a little money on the side?"

"Well I do want to talk to you," Omar looked right and left to make sure that no body was listening. "But I don't want to sell, I want to buy."

The phone line went quiet and Omar wasn't sure if Salim had hung up. When he spoke again, Salim was sarcastic, "Trouble at work? Or at home with your failure of a father? Perhaps your love life has gone under since the Fascist of your dreams walked out of your life?"

Omar didn't answer. "Let's just say that I need some help to get through the day."

"You do know how to take the stuff right?" Salim taunted.

"You make it sound like I never have, "Omar countered.

"And have you?" Salim asked sounding like he was talking to an impudent child who confessed that he knew how to swear.

Omar didn't answer. "I'll meet you wherever you like, just please help me," he pleaded.

"Alright," Salim agreed. "Meet me tomorrow near the bridge. We'll discuss the particulars there. Remember, if you don't pay you don't get anything." He hung up leaving behind a dial tone.

Omar continued to work even as the patrons thinned out for the evening. "Hey Omar," Del asked. Omar looked up at his employee who waved some tickets in the air. "Gi and I are going to a concert tonight." Omar nodded. Gigi had already informed him. "Want to come, we got an extra ticket?"

Omar shook his head. "I'll let you two go, but I'll stay. Someone has to work here."

"Ah, come on, Omar," Gigi said. "This place is almost closed." Omar looked straight at him and was about to speak when she and Del chorused with him. "This place never closes. "

"I taught you well," Omar grimaced. "If you want to go, go. I'll stay late." The couple hesitated as though they expected Omar to change his mind but Gigi took Del's hand and the two ran before their boss could disagree. They ran outside into the drizzling evening.

Omar continued to work until the last few people cleared out. He walked past the man on the phone. "Angela, I keep telling you that she meant nothing to me, it was true that Stephanie was smashing, and Phoebe was delightful, and Jane was good company time and again, but I find you-"

"Give it up, Gerard," Omar tapped the customer on the phone. "If Angela hasn't taken you back by now, she never will."

Gerard sighed at the empty dial tone and walked away. "'Night, mate. I sent her flowers but she sent them back as potpourri. Maybe, I should send her teddy bears."

"Oh no, think of the carnage," Omar said sarcastically.

"Well I will do what it takes to win her back, you know if you ever had someone wouldn't you do the same?" Gerard asked.

"Not if they didn't want me back," Omar said sourly. Gerard was about to say more, but left instead.

Omar balanced the books in the office, then took a broom outside to sweep. Despite his usual decisions to keep the place open all night, he considered going home. Instead, he changed his mind. He didn't feel the least bit tired, in fact he felt too keyed up to sleep. His mind continued to race with all the problems as though they were running after each other like someone constantly flipping channels on the telly_: I will have to call someone to fix the washer. Some other machines could use repair. How much would that cost me? I had better call Papa? What if he's in no condition to be alone tonight, he has his good days and his bad. Please let this be a good day. Should I tell Nassar about Tania? No, let that be her decision besides they will try to marry us again. Oh get over it, Omar, Johnny is never going to want you again. Just do what they want. You do anyway. _Each thought made his breath catch and he felt his heart race again.

The bell to the door jingled and Omar glanced at the new arrival. He was a stout man with short dark hair and wore ratted jeans and a brown overcoat over a t-shirt that advertised a band that Omar had never heard of. Omar glared at the arrival, because he recognized him.

"Got the place fixed up nice," Genghis smirked.

"Yes thank goodness," Omar quipped. "A real slob made a mess of things. We're closing."

"I thought this place 'never closed' "Genghis mocked standing too close to Omar. The young Pakistani man took an involuntary step away.

"Well we're closing now," Omar said. "If you want your clothes washed, you can try the machines over there and-"

"-I don't want my clothes washed, Paki," Genghis said the slur matter of fact as though that were Omar's name. Of course Omar reasoned that would always be his name to people like Genghis. "I want information like where Johnny is."

Omar started, but regained his composure before Genghis could notice. "How should I know? I'm sure he's with you and your friends. "He sneered.

Genghis laughed and Omar picked up the broom as if to use it as a weapon against the punk. "I assure you that when he was with us, he was certainly with you. He didn't enjoy the all-nighters, the fights against the system, and the battles against your kind. So, he disappeared a few weeks ago and we hadn't seen him since."

"What beating up on innocent immigrants lost its excitement for him?" Omar said sarcastically. "I wonder why. Maybe he finally gained a brain." Omar was sarcastic, but inside he was proud that Johnny left and hopeful that maybe he would come for him again.

He turned away, but Genghis grabbed his wrists, so hard that Omar dropped the broom. "What I can't figure out is what do you have that changed him? He works for you, sweeping, repairing glass and what not and something died in him when he comes back to us. I'm trying to figure out why? What do you have under there that can possibly interest him?"

Omar struggled to get away, but the harder he struggled the tighter Genghis' grip. "Let go of me!" he dared.

"Maybe if I found out you could make me a slave to Pakis, eh Jungle Boy," Genghis dared pulling to close to Omar. The neo-Nazi continued to taunt him with racial slurs as Omar struggled to get away. He then lifted his knee and kicked Genghis in the stomach. Genghis reared back, but then just as quickly stood and followed him. Omar unlocked the back room and was just about to close the door when Genghis kicked it wide open. He pushed Omar down, and then held back his arm. He ripped off his own trousers, then Omar's tossing them on the ground. Omar screamed in pain, feeling like Genghis was breaking his arm. The punk then covered his mouth. "If you scream, I will kill you," Genghis said as he mounted Omar and put a knife inside Omar's mouth as if to carry out his threat.

Omar continued to struggle under the other man as he raped him_. This isn't happening_, he said to himself, _there is no way Genghis is doing this to me_. He felt like he was floating outside his body and was watching the rape from afar. He couldn't do anything but say, "No, no," through clenched teeth. His teeth clenched the knife so tightly that the knife cut his lips making them bleed. Genghis laughed. "You know, you're shitting over yourself if you think that you mean anymore to Johnny than any others of your kind do?" Omar continued to struggle as he spoke. "Do you know how many girls and boys like you that Johnny and I used to take outside and show the only thing that they were good for pure Englishmen?"

"That's not true," Omar begged. "Not true you're lying!" Genghis continued to hold onto him showing no pity as he completed his assault on the young Pakistani.

"Oh it's true, alright! You are useless," Genghis said. "You pathetic scum should fucking go back where you came from!"

Genghis stood up leaving Omar on the ground. He dressed then kicked him in the ribs as he stomped away satisfied with knowing that he destroyed the young man physically and emotionally.

Omar waited until he could hear the front door close. He sat up and hugged himself on the knees. He felt numb, like all feeling had been drained out of him. The slightly rational part of his mind ordered him to go home. He absently put back on his trousers and searched for the shoes that had fallen off during the rape. He found one by the door, but couldn't find the other. Omar shook his head deciding to leave the other shoe. He then stood on shaky legs. He slumped slowly out of the back room and locked the launderette returning home.

Omar was drenched from the rain, but paid it no mind. He walked into the flat hoping that his father was asleep. The old man was wide awake and drinking from a vodka bottle. "You are home later than usual," Papa quipped. "Any particular reason?"

"No Papa," Omar said wearily grateful that it was dark and his father couldn't see the injuries. He walked into the lavatory and turned on the sink. He glanced at his reflection. His bottom lip was red and swollen. His eye was puffy and bruised. Omar rubbed his hands in the sink then splashed them on his face. He absently glanced down as the blood trickled from his face down to the sink below running against the water.

"Good God, Omar, what happened to you?" Omar jumped at his father's voice. He was standing behind him. He put his hands on Omar's face.

"It was nothing, Papa," Omar said, his voice practically a whisper. "I just fell."

"I find that hard to believe," Ali said sarcastically. "Are you in trouble again? Why are you bleeding and why are you only wearing one shoe?" He pointed downwards at Omar's feet where one sock was completely soiled by the walk in the rain. Omar also noticed that his shirt was re-buttoned haphazardly and hung from outside his trousers and he left his jacket back at the launderette. He did look a sight. Ali continued. " Is there anything that I can do?"Ali's last sentence had a trace of longing as though he really wanted to be there, to do something for his son like he did when Omar was a boy.

Omar bit his lip and shook his head. "No, Papa, there isn't anything anyone can do. Go back to sleep." Ali looked confused, but nodded and returned to his bed. Omar returned to his bed mechanically and wrapped the sheets over him still feeling nothing. When he lay down, he put his hand to his lip. He recalled Genghis' words and the rape. Suddenly, his lip quivered and he could bury his feelings no longer as his body shook overcome with his sobbing tears.

The next day, he paid Salim for 500 quid for a month's worth of speed.

_March, 1977 Lewisham- Omar pushed through the hallway past the crowded group of teenager. He held onto his books hugging his body tightly as he backed into a group of giggling schoolgirls arguing about which of the Gibb Brothers were the cutest. Andy definitely, Omar thought as he apologized for bumping into one of the girls. The school hallway was suffocating with music, loud voices, laughter, and teachers who were barely keeping the peace. Omar nodded and called his classmate, Andr__é__ over. The two had been assigned partners for a biology project. "You got the notes?" Omar asked._

"_Yeah, if you can understand them, but I sure can't," the boy answered. Andre was a small bespectacled teenager whose family had recently emigrated to Lewisham from Haiti. He tripped over his laces as Omar helped the boy to stand. Andr__é__ was the type of kid who inspired mockery no matter what he did._

"_At least we'll pull a passing grade, I hope," Omar said as the two walked further down the alley to their flats. The two continued walking until they moved closer to a gang. "Maybe we should go another way," Andr__é__ stammered._

"_No," Omar said. "Just ignore them and keep going." The two 15-year-olds moved forwards feeling more tense as they approached the gang. Omar held his schoolbooks in front of him like a protective suit of armor. The taller older boys seemed to sense Andre as the weaker link as the tripped him. "Where you two going? Are you lost?" one jeered. "Maybe, you should come with us." The others laughed as though it were the funniest joke in the world. _

"_No," Andr__é__ stammered. The two older boys pushed Andre to the ground as Omar stood up. "Leave him alone," Omar commanded. _

"_Who's going to stop us, Paki, you?" one of the boys dared. _

"_Yes, I am," Omar raised a fist and was about to strike the boy in the wide girth, when another hand stopped him. Omar turned to see a familiar face. "Johnny?"he asked. He wanted to hug his old friend, but Johnny pushed him down. _

_Johnny didn't respond, but turned to his other mates. "Leave 'em alone," he declared. "They're not worth it." Johnny's other friends looked disappointed, but they followed him. _

_Omar waited until the other boys left, then helped Andr__é__ to stand. "Are you alright?" Omar asked._

_Andr__é__ nodded. "Who was that?"_

"_Someone who I thought was my friend," Omar said sadly. "Let's go study."_

_Omar sat at home waiting. Things were quiet. His father would be late at another meeting of the All Lewisham Campaign Against Racism and Fascism. Things hadn't been going well for the group, and when they didn't go well, his father came home drunk and would yell at his wife and son. _

"_Omar," Daviya called. The teenager turned his head to face his mother. "I have a headache, so when your father comes home, please tell him that I don't want to be disturbed."_

"_Yes, Mama," Omar answered as she closed the door to his bedroom. Omar shook his head. She had been like that lately. She spoke less and less, particularly as his father spoke more and more. She also spent a great deal of time lying in bed, ill. Omar could never tell if her illnesses were real or imaginary and he didn't want to ask. The last time he asked his mother if something was wrong, she cried for almost a half hour. Omar sighed and tried to return to his class work. He just had a feeling that his parents' tensions were lying below the surface, just waiting to explode._

_Omar tapped his fingers on his notebook as the quiet almost deafened him. He couldn't concentrate on the work. He tried to get his mind off of other things, but it kept coming back to seeing Johnny. They had remained best friends for a time, but in the past few months things had changed. Well, Omar didn't think that they changed within himself but they certainly changed within Johnny. He began to ignore him in school, and would avoid him on the streets. Sometimes when Omar called Johnny's house, his mum or dad would tell him that he wasn't there, though Omar had the feeling that his friend was in the background listening. Johnny then left school a few months ago, so Omar didn't even see him then. Omar couldn't understand why Johnny had ignored him now. Had he done something that he couldn't remember? Omar closed the book annoyed. He couldn't concentrate on his schoolwork or anything else. In fact he had the urge to leave. He looked around waiting for his mother to make a sound or the door to slam indicating his father's return. When he didn't hear anything, Omar slipped on a pair of shoes and walked outside into the late night._

_Omar headed towards the sound of a club. Loud music blared from the windows and the lights almost blinded him. Curiously, Omar walked closer to the club. He followed a group of young men and women as they entered. Omar practically had to cover his ears as the sound of the Sex Pistols filled the entire hallway. His eyes widened in confusion as the dancers on the floor slammed into each other and hit one another, their knives and razor jewelry causing their arms to bleed. My God, what are they doing? Omar thought confused. _

"_Hey," someone poked Omar on the ribs. "Want some?" A bald albino man held up some cocaine._

_Omar was about to refuse, when he saw Johnny approach him out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed Omar's hand. "What are you doing here?"_

_Omar pushed out of his arm. Even though Omar missed his friend, he was irritated with Johnny's accusing suspicious voice."What do you care?" _

"_This ain't your thing," Johnny mocked._

_Omar laughed bothered by Johnny's protectiveness."And I suppose you think that my thing is waiting around for you to grace me with your presence." _

"_So you want some or not?" the dealer asked._

"_No, he doesn't," Johnny said grabbing Omar's arm. Omar pushed him away._

"_I checked the guest list of my business Johnny and you're not on it," He smartly replied and grabbed the cocaine from the dealer. It felt hot as he snorted it up his nose. When he looked up, Omar felt dazed and foggy. Nausea filled his entire insides all the way up to his throat. He wanted to run to the lav and vomit, but he didn't want to give Johnny the satisfaction of knowing that. _

_Instead, he headed for the floor as Johnny held him back. "I'm taking you home."_

"_I didn't think we were still friends enough for you to be concerned with what I do with my life," Omar reminded him. _

"_Listen," Johnny said. "About earlier."_

_Omar glanced at him as the two stood for a few minutes in silence."And?" Omar asked._

"_Well aren't you going to thank me?" Johnny asked confused. _

_Omar laughed. "Yes, thank you for nearly letting your friends beat up my friend."_

"_Hey, I stopped them from hurting you!" Johnny reminded him. _

"_So it was perfectly alright for you to beat up someone else?" Omar dryly replied. "You're unbelievable, Johnny! You ignore me! You don't want to have anything to do with me and now all of a sudden you are concerned with what happens to me?" Johnny pulled the 15-year-old closer, but Omar purposely moved closer to the dance floor. "No, just leave me alone!"_

_Omar moved closer to a person with really short spiky hair. He couldn't tell under the lights if the person was a man or a woman, but he danced closer to them gyrating his body next to the other person's. His head was swimming with the drugs, but he kept his eyes on Johnny's. He had disappeared into the crowd for a minute so Omar didn't see him, but he just hoped that he was getting an eyeful of Omar dancing with someone else to let him know what he had been missing. Omar moved closer to his partner as Johnny danced closer with a tall leggy brunette woman. Well if that's what he wants, Omar thought in anger. He pushed himself up and down his partner as Johnny purposely moved the woman closer. Omar glared and didn't mind when his partner leaned his mouth closer to him. He stuck his tongue down Omar's throat and put his hand down Omar's crotch. Despite the drugged state that he was in, Omar snapped back to attention and look at his partner. "Hey, I didn't say that you can do that," he said._

"_Who cares?" his partner asked as he pushed Omar closer. _

"_I do, get off of me," Omar struggled. "I mean it, keep away!" That was as far as the other man got when Johnny stood next to them and punched him. Omar looked at his dancing partner flattened on the ground, then looked at Johnny. In a fury, he pushed Johnny then stormed out of the club._

"_Omar, wait," Johnny yelled as the two ran out in the night. He held the Pakistani teen close as he struggled. _

"_You can't do this," Omar gasped as Johnny held him tightly. "You can't ignore me and then do this." _

"_I wanted to," Johnny said. "But, I couldn't stop thinking about you. It scared me! I'm not supposed to..I mean, shit, I should be thinking about girls but all I can think about is-" He held Omar closer. "So, I kept away. You should stay away too. I ain't any good for you! The only thing you can do is stay away."_

"_I want to, but I can't," Omar gripped Johnny's arm and leaned closer to his friend. Johnny kissed him. "No, I don't want to be away from you." He kissed him back. Johnny's lips moved down Omar's throat as they gave in completely to each other. _

"_I know a place," Johnny said taking Omar's hand and leading him to an abandoned building. The two ran up the stairs giggling and fondling each other. Johnny opened the door as he and Omar fell into the room clawing each other. They tumbled into the floor onto each other's bodies, theirs arms interlocked. The two moaned softly as their bodies moved in synchronous motion. Their voices got louder as they became more aroused. The two felt nothing but passion and love._

_The next morning Omar woke to a pounding headache and a nearly empty bed. Johnny was gone. Omar felt ill and depressed as he got dressed and went home._

_The next time that they meant, Omar and Johnny arranged to meet in secret._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: A Town Called Malice

Rachel rapped smartly on the door. She absently smoothed her blue skirt as the door opened to reveal a tall man with dark hair that had lightened with age. His normally serious face broke into a happy grin. "Hiya sis. Ready for supper?"

Rachel wrapped her arms around her younger brother. "Of course, Toby." Despite their increasingly busy lives, Rachel and Toby tried to meet at least once every few weeks to eat and catch one another up on their lives. The two entered Toby's lived-in flat . Rachel sat down, the old chair feeling a bit uncomfortable under her. She nodded thanks as her brother offered her a plate of Beef Wellington and a salad. "A police officer who cooks. It's a wonder that the ladies hadn't snatched you up, yet."

Toby winked. "You know me, Detective Sergeant Toby Field, the regular lady's man," Rachel chuckled and playfully slapped Toby on the shoulder as they ate. "You're looking sharper than the last time I saw you," Toby remarked. "Finally, over what's his name, Nadir, Vassar?"

"Nassar," Rachel corrected what she felt was the 100th time. "I am finally ready to move on."

"I should hope so," Toby interjected. He had made his opinions perfectly clear about her lover reminding her that he was a married man and what was she to expect and if he ever ran into him, then Toby would give him the beating of his life. "Hey at least you don't have to worry about the superstitions that you claimed that the wife gave you."

"Toby, they were real, " Rachel swore. "The furniture kept shaking. That sofa that Grandmum gave me almost fell apart."

"Rache, you live near the Tubes and the train station," Toby reminded her. "The walls and furniture shift from time to time."

"And the rashes that were on my body," Rachel asked."What would you call that?"

"I call that eczema or some other skin condition," Toby said. "Slap some aloe or lotion on you and it will be gone. Anyway, you hadn't had it in months so why bother worrying?"

Rachel shrugged. "I suppose you're right," she said. Toby's phone rang. He held up his finger to his sister as if to say wait a minute.

Rachel watched her brother's face. His gregarious smile transformed into a dark sinister frown. His voice dropped to a frantic whisper. There were two things that Toby kept secret from his sister: cases that he was working on and his relationships with women, both of which he was known for. Rachel recalled the many times when she and Toby still shared the same flat and the door was often pounded on by a frantic young woman who needed her brother's help on a case or believed he was the father of her child, or both.

She listened. "Yes, good thanks for letting me know. I'll see you. No, not now! Wait!" He glanced at his sister. "No, I'm not alone. Tomorrow evening will be fine. Same time, place too. Thank you, remember, Cherry. Good-bye." He hung up. Upon Rachel's curious expression. "Just a business call."

"Did you say 'Remember Cherry'? As in the fruit or the color?" Rachel inquired.

Toby grinned and laughed. "I can't keep anything from you, sis. Actually, it's both. I had feelers on a recliner for Mum for her birthday. I picked the color, cherry red. "

"Mum will love it," Rachel replied. "If she's aware of it." Toby blithely nodded. Their mother was currently in a nursing facility and was in the final stages of dementia. She hadn't been aware of many of her children's gifts. "So, you will be picking it up."

Toby nodded. "That was a mate of mine. He's going to help me." Rachel nodded, but privately she knew her brother better than that. His quiet determined voice during the call told her that it was more serious than he let on. Rachel wasn't fooled. She could tell that when Toby said, "Cherry" that he was referring to someone by name . She knew of only one woman with that name. It was a long shot, so for now she opted to keep this thought to herself. But, she had a feeling that she would be seeing Nassar again whether either of them wanted to be reunited or not.

Tania spent most of the morning wrapped up in various books, and notepads translating various texts for Latika. She was so busy that she didn't realize that she had skipped lunch, until Max took her hand and offered to take her out. She was about to object, but her growling stomach refuted her objection, so she accepted.

Max and Tania walked hand in hand down the London street talking and eating chocolate bars that they had bought from a nearby sweet shop. Since they were both caught up in work, Omar offered to watch Frida at the laundrette on the condition that they arrived early to pick her up since he had to get ready for a party at Nassar's. "London isn't as bad as you said, Tani."

"Wait until you really get to know the place," the young woman quipped dryly. "I still can't understand why Latika had me remain here longer."

"Well if she wants to write that book on Women Immigrants in Europe, then England would by definition be one of the places to study," Max dryly reminded her.

Tania shrugged as her boyfriend continued. "Besides it could give you the chance to catch up on some familiar places, old friends-"

Tania sighed and rolled her eyes. "-I know where this is going," as Max continued. "-Family members."

"No," Tania objected. "I have already told you this. I will not speak to my father!"

"Oh come now," Max said. "Why won't you talk to him?"

"We're completely different," Tania replied. "He would never understand me."

"Well you never know until you try," Max countered.

"What about you and Frida?" Tania reminded him. "He would go positively bonkers if he found out that I am in love with a white man and a Jew at that."

"Well I wasn't exactly consulted when my ancestors selected their religion," Max quipped. "Besides didn't you once tell me that he wasn't particularly religious?"

"Are you kidding?" Tania remarked. "Papa thinks that Muslim Law should be changed to Muslim Suggestion. No, he isn't religious or traditional, normally. But, he's not afraid of hiding behind that façade to get his way. I don't want to see you or Frida get hurt by his reactionary avaricious ways."

Max held his girlfriend closer. "Oh, Tania you said so yourself; you have changed in the past year. Perhaps he has as well."

"Not him," Tania glowered.

"Doesn't he deserve the benefit of the doubt as much as you do?" Max asked. Tania held her boyfriend closer and the two kissed. Max grinned. He knew Tania well: she can be stubborn when she stuck by her convictions. Sometimes it would take the work of a Biblical prophet to change her mind. He had a feeling that her father was the same way, but if Nassar Hussein was anything like his daughter, he would come around eventually. Max wanted to believe that her family wasn't as bad as the dire picture that she painted. But he knew for her and her father to truly heal, they must get beyond their estrangement and move on. To do that, they had to reunite.

Tania held out her notebook. "I should probably get back. Latika will have my head if this chapter isn't finished." Max playfully, took the notebook and ran around in circles with it. Tania laughed and reached for It, but the tall man held it high over her head. "Give it back, you idiot," she laughed reaching for it again. She jumped for it, but again Max towered the notebook over her. "You're as bad as Frida. Give it to me!"

"Make me," Max teased. Tania stood on tip-toe and kissed her boyfriend on the lips. Max slowly lowered the notebook as he kissed her back. "That wasn't so bad was it?" he asked as she took the notebook from him.

"You are an idiot," Tania teased as the two kissed again. Out of the corner of her eye, Tania glanced across the street. A white man was standing by a street corner, a familiar white man with bleached over dark hair and wearing an orange and black jacket. Tania pulled away. "Wait a minute," she said. Tania turned from her boyfriend to get a closer look. She walked closer to the edge of the sidewalk keeping her distance but wanting to see if her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. The man didn't see her. Instead , he looked at the crowd with a lost expression on his face. He smoked a cigarette and leaned on a wall, one leg propped up against the edge for support."Johnny!" Tania yelled louder than she intended. The man looked up. Tania turned to Max. "Max, it's Johnny!" She yelled. Tania crossed the street with Max struggling to keep up. "Johnny, wait! I want to talk-" Tania called. She ran to where she saw the figure, but he was gone. Her voice grew softer as she caught her breath. "-with you."

Tania looked back and forth and shook her head. There was no one here who looked remotely familiar. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. "You all look alike to me," Tania muttered under her breath. She was about to turn around and return to her boyfriend when a voice startled her. "You ever touched this one, then?" Tania jumped with surprise and turned to the same man who looked at her with the same laviscious grin that he had the day she left London.

Tania grinned but maintained a classy composure. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes plenty of times. Good to see you, Johnny."

"You too, Tania," Johnny agreed. "Are you here long?"

"A few weeks or so," Tania replied. "I've been to the launderette," she said.

"Ah," Johnny said in a tone that indicated nonchalance, but Tania wondered if it meant more than that. "Not changed much then?"

"The only things that seemed to have changed are you and Omar," Tania replied.

"So?" Johnny asked.

"You should go back with him," Tania said. "You belong together."

Johnny grimaced. "Is this the same man who what were the exact words, 'ordered me about like a servant.' You lost the battle, so now you're pushing me towards him."

Tania glared at him. Johnny always had a way of twisting the truth within emotions that infuriated her. Privately, she was glad that he declined to travel with her. It took meeting Max for her to realize just how wrong she and Johnny would have been for each other. "You should see him, dressed in his fine suits, acting the life of every party, playing the boss."

"So, he got what he wanted," Johnny sneered.

"It's all an act and you know it," Tania snapped. "Outside he's fine, but he's dead inside."

"And you know him so well," the punk glowered.

Tania found no answer for that so she turned to face Max who approached the two. She walked up to her boyfriend. "What have you been doing to yourself during this time?" she asked. "Causing trouble, breaking the law?"

"Been up North," Johnny answered. "Drinking, doing a lot of thinking." A lot more than what was good for him, Johnny thought. He couldn't stay with his old gang, not when every immigrant reminded him of Omar. Not when he saw how useless his former friends all were .One night, he just left not sure where he was going. He just migrated North up near Liverpool for awhile just to think. Many of his thoughts centered around a pair of bright innocent brown eyes over a wide dazzling white smile and a pleasant optimistic voice that always called his name with such joy and reminded him that he was capable of doing anything. Johnny hated Omar, hated him for changing him and for making it impossible to change back.

"Then you had better return to the only man who ever thought that you were worth anything," Tania shot back as she walked away with Max. "Because God knows nobody else does!"

Omar, Del, and Gigi had continued their daily work at the laundrette which had been a very busy but pleasant day with Frida running around the place. She greeted many of the customers who spoke to her and joked with her. Some even played with the small girl like Gerard who lifted up and spun the giggling girl around. "I think Powders has a new mascot," Gigi quipped.

"You know if we just charged people who wanted to play with her alone we could make a fortune," Del joked slyly.

Omar laughed as they continued to work. Proceedings had hit a slight lull since Frida became bored and Omar offered to let her sit in the backroom for awhile."I'll go see how she is," Omar said. He thought that maybe Frida might be bored in unlocked the backroom and walked inside. The backroom felt cramped and Omar caught his breath. Now that he was in the same room where it happened, his rape from Genghis felt more real than ever. He winced at the recall of the Neo-Nazi on top of him his deep voice growling in his ear, his hands cutting the life out of him, his body pushing down on him. Omar didn't tell anyone about it. He couldn't tell anyone. He felt nauseous, humiliated at the thought. Each time that the pressure of the day and the memory of that awful rape filled him, he reached for the safety of the pills that Salim had given him. They were the only things that kept him going. Omar glanced at his pocket and saw his bottle was empty. He glowered with disdain. Well more reasons to go to Nassar's party tonight. He decided to block his thoughts from such dire things and divert his attention to the small girl.

The small girl appeared not to hear him because she had her head bowed. She concentrated on the picture that she drew on her sketchpad. Omar peered over her shoulder to see a lovely woman with dark curly hair. "It's very good," Omar said. Frida jumped in an almost comic surprise, the pencil fell from her hand. She looked up at her uncle.

"Thank you, Uncle Omar," she said as she reached for the pencil that had fallen near her feet. Omar smiled indulgently and fondly. She was a sweet girl. She glanced up at her uncle smiling a wide grin with missing front teeth. He briefly entertained the notion of what it would be like to have children of his own someday. Omar shook his head. If he married, it would be for duty and children would be a part of that. Would he ever be content to be around children that he would have to compromise for? If he stayed as he was, then well his chances of having them, even adopting, would be slim to none. _Would I ever meet another man who would want them as much as I would? _he thought and realized that it didn't matter. He really had no close connections with anyone else male or female. A couple anonymous sessions in men's rooms to relieve sexual tension and of course the endless family parties and gatherings to introduce him to females were the amounts of his social life now. So, another man wasn't even in the equation. Omar wasn't even sure that he wanted to go through that frustration and heartache once again. Besides the only man he ever even remotely considered a future with had walked out of his life long ago and there was no turning back. Omar laughed gruffly at the notion of even picturing a future with a committed male lover and a child. It was pathetic, ridiculous. Frida stared at her uncle in silence, her eyes widening in confusion at Omar's behavior. Omar shook his head and turned to the picture. "Who's in the picture?"

"It's my mama," Frida said sadly. "She died when I was three."

"Oh," Omar said. "My mother died too almost two years ago," because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Was it in an accident too?" Frida asked.

"Something like that," Omar said not wanting to depress the girl with the details.

"Do you still miss her?" the young girl inquired returning to the picture.

"Yes, I do," Omar agreed. "Every day." Frida nodded. The two stood in silence for a long time. Omar was about to turn around and head for the main room when Frida called to him. "Uncle Omar, do you think it's alright?"

Omar turned around. "Do I think what's alright?"

Frida stopped drawing and her eyes watered. "That Papa and I love Tania too? You don't think she's sad or angry do you?"

Omar pulled up a seat next to the girl. He absently put his hand on top of hers. "Frida, I think that your mother would want you and your father to be happy. You have probably spent a long time missing her, haven't you?" Frida nodded. "I'm sure so has your father. I bet your Mama is watching you and smiling that you have a new friend in Tania and that your father has found someone to love."

"I love her too," Frida said. Omar nodded at the girl. "I hope Papa marries her someday. Do you think that they will?"

Omar shrugged. "If they love each other and it is to be, I'm sure they will. Of course Tania can be a bit stubborn, but I bet your father can convince her."

Frida giggled. "Do you love someone the way my Papa and Tania love each other?"

Omar stopped for a moment at the inquisitive girl. "I used to," Omar said sadly.

"Well what happened?" Frida asked. "Did she die too? Or he?" Omar looked puzzled and Frida grinned. "Papa's an artist. I know lots of people like that."

Omar laughed. "It was a he and no he didn't die. It wasn't meant to be. Sometimes people are too different."

"Do you still love him?" Frida asked. Omar was saved from answering by the timely arrival of Tania and Max. He sighed with relief and pointed to the window. "Look your father and Tania are here." Frida jumped from the sofa, sketchpad in hand as she followed her uncle out the backroom.

Frida chatted with her father and his girlfriend. Tania looked upset. "Is something wrong?" Omar asked. Tania shook her head deciding not to tell Omar that she spoke with Johnny. She figured that was something that he should do on his own. "Well, I have to go. Must get ready for the party. Would you like to come?" He jeered the last part and Tania smirked and glared at her cousin. Omar laughed bitterly as he accompanied the three out the door.

Omar adjusted his tie as he entered the party. He had a few reasons to visit the party. The first was to retain the public face of the business. The second reason was to see Salim. He passed by Cherry. She hardly had the pregnant mother-to-be glow. In fact she looked pale and nauseous. She was dressed in her black fur coat and a black maternity gown. "Hi, Cherry," Omar asked. "Have you seen your husband?"

"When you know, I will know," she said obviously distracted. Omar entered the men's portion of the party.

He nodded at Zaki as the two had finalized their partnership that morning. "Good time," Omar asked noticing his voice taking on the heightened speed tones that It did whenever he wanted to talk business.

"Of course, Omar," Zaki replied, offering the young man a brandy which he accepted. "You know Omar, you have a lot of spirit and I like that not just in a partner, but in family." He turned to Nassar. "Did you tell him the news Nassaar?"

Nassar shook his head looking a little like a cat that got caught eating a canary. "What news, Uncle?" Omar asked suddenly feeling his hands shake. He needed a pill, but he remembered that he took them all. In fact he was going to see Salim when he got a free moment for a refill. I should have rationed them, Omar thought feeling the high beginning to leave. The exhilaration that he felt throughout the day was beginning to disappear and his mouth felt dry. He would have to see Salim soon if he could get away. Omar kept his eye on the front door. He wasn't there yet, so when the hell would he get there?

Nassar took his nephew by the shoulder. "Well, Zaki's niece is visiting from Karachi. It would please us greatly if you would show her around London. Perhaps we could make more than a business relationship. "Omar put his hand on his forehead. He knew where this was going. "Are you alright, my boy?" Nassar asked.

"Just fine, Uncle," Omar replied. He leaned closer to his uncle. "I don't really know if I will have time. There are many things that I must do with the launderette and this partnership with Zaki is getting off the ground."

Nassar and Zaki laughed loudly, too loudly in Nassar's case. "Omar, one must work, but one must make time as well for the ladies, deliver his seed for his future," Zaki hinted.

"I know but the more one works, the more one can prepare for their future," Omar disagreed.

"Omar, may I see you alone," Nassar asked tightly. He led Omar to the hallway. "You have turned down every offer that we have made to introduce you to ladies. Tania was a mistake, I will admit that. But we have to get you married eventually. You make every sort of excuse to avoid meeting girls, what is your excuse this time?"

"You know why I can't," Omar reminded him.

"I know, but not everyone else does," Nasser whispered harshly. "I am not about to tell all of my colleagues that my eligible nephew is a fairy!"

Omar gritted his teeth trying to bury the resentment that he was beginning to feel. "Uncle, I work at the launderette 60 hours a week. I attend every function, support all of the right local clubs. I take care of Papa hold him when he falls, refresh his memory when he is too drunk to remember my name. I do everything for this family. The least you could do is allow me this!"

"This isn't a fucking negotiation," Nassar snapped. He pushed Omar closer so no one could hear their words. "You do what is expected of you and nothing else!"

_Regardless of how I feel in the matter?_ Omar wanted to say but he knew the argument was useless. The high was definitely gone now and the pressure was building up like a cooker ready to explode. Omar needed the pills and he needed them now. The young man sighed. He knew his uncle was beginning to understand his homosexuality up to a point, as long as it didn't interfere with their lives or business. Like everything in Nassar's life it was just a secret to hide in a corner, but was not to interfere with the life of making business. Omar suddenly felt exhausted.

He heard a familiar voice inside his head_, You're just too content to let them run your life. That way you don't have to think about what you really want_! Omar silently begged for the voice to shut up.

"Besides what has that given you?" Nassar asked.

Omar didn't want to answer his question. He thought of Johnny's arms around him, the secret kisses, the way that they made each other laugh, how they made love. Omar's mind focused on Johnny on top of him, tough and tender, so loving and ecstatic. Suddenly, Johnny's image transformed into Genghis and his hard brutal assault. He pushed himself on top of Omar cutting the young man under him. Omar shook his head trying to get the image out of his mind trying to force these thoughts as the face in his mind shifted from Johnny to Genghis and back again. Would remembering Johnny ever keep Genghis from his thoughts? Did it matter, weren't they the same man anyway? What had being a homosexual gotten him except a broken heart ? Omar caught his breath to keep the panic from registering on his face then he faced his uncle.

He tried to be diplomatic and put a bland face on the issue. ". Would you excuse me for a minute?" he asked as he saw Salim enter the party. He put on his cat-like grin and greeted many of his relatives and colleagues. Salim stepped past Cherry. The two gave each other long stares as Cherry left the house.

Omar waited a few seconds. Then tapped Salim on the shoulder. "Upstairs," his cousin warned.

Omar followed Salim as the two walked upstairs into one of the fancy bedrooms. Omar entered as Salim glanced out the window. "Is something the matter, Salim?" Omar asked."Is Cherry alright?"

"Not if I have anything to say," Salim glowered.

Omar gulped. He hoped his older relative wasn't planning something too crazy. "Salim, remember you are getting a child."

"I'm not even sure that the bastard is mine," Salim said. He motioned Omar over to the window. Omar glanced to see Cherry outside. The black fur coat and the dark maternity gown gave her away. She glanced right and left, then walked from the large driveway. Omar kept his eyes on the woman's retreating body. She reached the gate and glanced as a black car slowed down and pulled up to the house. She glanced around as she entered the car.

"Every other night at 7:30 for the past four months she enters that same car," Salim said, his voice was hypnotic and icy. "She then exits it past midnight. Sometimes she gets phone calls and becomes very nervous when I enter the room."

"What are you going to do to her?" Omar asked, feeling very frightened.

"Nothing yet," Salim threatened. Omar gulped terrified. He turned to Omar all threats gone from his face and voice. "Which one?" He asked. Besides the amphetamines, Omar had been taking barbiturates to help him sleep.

"Both please," Omar pleaded. "Here's enough to cover both." Omar waited as Salim counted the money. "You don't have to worry. No one does the books at the launderette besides me, No one would know."

Salim handed the younger man two bags of pills. Omar sighed with relief and popped one in his mouth. He felt the familiar zing of the drug take effect as the early part of the high began. "Make these last," Salim warned. "I won't be in much of a charitable mood next time."

Omar nodded. "I know, thanks Salim," he said as he placed the pills in his pocket. He ran down the stairs to rejoin the party. He took a few drinks feeling buzzed with the pills already in effect.

Omar spoke to his friends and relatives loudly, laughing non-stop at jokes, kissing female relatives. He was in the middle of a conversation with his uncle, once again about Zaki's niece, when he seemed closed in. The faces of the people around him swirled into colors and shapes. The closer people came to him, the more frightened Omar became. "She will be arriving from Heathrow tomorrow at 7:00. Are you listening? Omar are you alright my boy?" Nassar asked, his voice sounding far away like he was speaking through a hollow tube even though he was right next to his nephew.

Omar looked around as Nassar put his hand on his shoulder. In Omar's mind, he could see Genghis on top of him practically taking his life with his assault. Genghis jumped on top of him telling him that if screamed that he would kill him. Omar covered his ears. "Go away," he whispered. "Go away," he repeated louder. "Go away!" He said fiercely as he pushed the image of Genghis' hands from him.

"Omar, behave yourself boy," Nassar interrupted. Omar returned from his flashback at his flushed and concerned uncle. Some partiers turned around to look at the two.

"I'm alright, Uncle Nassar," Omar said. He began to giggle to prove it. His head began to swim uncontrollably as he swayed back and forth. The alcohol and the amphetamine combine d to give him an uncontrollable feeling of dazed euphoria. His giggles became louder as he felt dizzy. Nassar held onto the boy to steady him, but Omar rejected his uncle's touch. The images continued to sway as Omar's mind felt foggy. "I think I'm going to have some air, alright?" Nassar held Omar by the arm.

"Where are you going?" Nassar asked. Omar wouldn't answer, but again he felt nervous, agitated, and irritated. "Do you care nothing for your reputation for your family?"

Omar laughed harder as the images swirled in front of him. He felt the pressure from Genghis on top of him once more. He felt as though he were constantly surrounded by his relatives, Johnny's crowd. Each one was pushing and pulling on him. Omar tried to hold back the scream that was coming to him. "So, it's your shirt lifter fucking guys nephew to the rescue again, eh? Get the right job, marry the right girl. So you want me to fix your family, fix your business, and fix your house? Fix your own!" He said. Many partygoers stared at Omar as he spoke loudly. Bilques motioned forward standing behind her husband. She held an arm to his shoulder as if to keep him from striking his nephew. Omar stared at his aunt and uncle as he headed for the door. He held the door knob to say one more thing. "Tania's back. She's got a boyfriend now, with a kid! Why don't you go fuck with their lives for awhile?" He stormed out leaving a stunned Nassar behind.

Omar drove his car down an abandoned street. He was about to turn at a green light when the car stopped. "No, no don't," Omar begged. "Not tonight." But the car's stalled engine was his only answer. Then, it died. Omar let exited the car. "You couldn't have at least waited until I pulled over!" He yelled and then kicked the car. He then trotted off to look for a phone to call someone to pick up the car and to tell his father that he was coming home as soon as possible.

He walked down the street feeling someone watching him. Omar tensed ready to defend himself if need be. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see a figure approaching him. Omar walked rather quickly. He was consciously aware that his steps were getting faster as he noticed the person following him was getting faster. _What if it's Genghis?_ Omar thought _What else could that bastard do to me_? The memories of that rape filled him again with revulsion and fear. He slapped his forehead to keep them from coming. He then broke into a run as the figure ran after him. Omar turned around a corner as a pair of arms grabbed him too closely. Omar pushed the person away. "Let go of me!"he yelled in his mind seeing Genghis grabbing hold. "Let go!" He scratched the man's face as he called his name.

"Omo, it's me," a familiar voice said. Omar stopped struggling and looked closer at his assailant.

"Johnny!" Omar called. He wrapped his arms and kissed his lover hungrily partly out of relieving sexual frustration and partly on high from the amphetamine. "Where have you been you bastard? " He pushed him originally playfully, but then he became rougher, more aggressive as if all of the frustrations of the past few months f filled him. He continued to punch and punch at Johnny repeating "Where were you? Where were you?" until he fell into Johnny's arms out of breath.

"I've been away," Johnny said. "I've been trying to forget everything, them, the launderette, you!" He held Omar tightly in his arms. "I have seen Tania. She says you're doing well."

Omar laughed bitterly. Johnny could see the dilated pupils in his former lover and hear the tense laugh. "Yes so well." He laughed again dangerously. Johnny stepped back fearful that his former lover was going mad. "You don't know what's happened to me! You went away! What difference does it make to you?" Johnny approached him as Omar stepped away. "Keep away!" Johnny dropped his arms stunned at Omar's reaction.

Johnny followed his lover taking his arm, but Omar shoved it away. "What's gotten into you?"

Omar turned to Johnny and laughed again in a way that made the punk uneasy. "Why don't you ask your mate Genghis?" Johnny looked confused but very uncomfortable. Then the truth dawned on him. He muttered "Son of a bitch!" he yelled louder. "That son of a bitch!"

Omar approached Johnny slowly taking on a seductive purring tone. "Don't you want to show me that the only thing the only thing I am good for to a pure Englishman?" This time Johnny looked stricken. "Genghis told me what you two did!"

Johnny winced at the memory, the one that drove him from his old gang finally, a few months ago. _Genghis had lured the young boy out: a small skinny kid not more than 14. Johnny approached them. He turned his head not wanting to look the lad in the eye, but when he did those eyes haunted him, accusing him. In his mind, the young boy shifted transformed into an innocent pair of bright eyes that never left Johnny for a moment. The boy transformed into Omar! Johnny ran from that scene, running from the boy's screams of pain and his former friend's grunts of satisfaction._

"I didn't! I watched it, but I didn't do it," Johnny declared knowing how useless that argument was. "I don't belong with them no more! How many times am I gonna say that?"

Omar stopped laughing and then shoved him again. "Do you think that fucking matters? Do you really belong with me?" Johnny couldn't give an answer so Omar shoved him again this time with more anger. "Fuck you, Johnny! Just fuck you!" Omar started to walk away but Johnny followed him again. "Fuck you!" Omar yelled as he pushed the punk. Johnny once again wrapped his arms around the young Pakistani man and kissed him. Omar again swore, "Fuck you," but his voice had no malice.

Johnny pushed Omar against the wall and kissed him again. When Omar spoke again, his voice was drained but filled with longing. "Fuck me," Omar pleaded. "Fuck me." He returned Johnny's kiss as the loneliness of the past few months consumed both men and they kissed locked in their own private hurts embracing as if the world was coming to an end.

From far away, Genghis watched the two lovers. He glowered. He claimed Omar so Johnny would never want him. That Paki had no business defiling him. Those savages took everything from them! It was about time he took action! None of this hoodlum shit! He would stick it to that Paki in a way that he will never forget and no foreigner would!

August, 1977_- _

_That summer was hot and sweltering enough; the type of summer where everyone was at one another's throats already. Tensions had been exploding all year in violent spurts and demonstrations, but it was the arrest of the 21 young black boys that was the final straw. _

_Omar stood at the front of the meeting hall proudly passing out leaflets to passers-by. He handed a leaflet to a woman who said thanks. Inside, he could hear the members of the All Lewisham Campaign Against Racism and Fascism cheering becoming more enthusiastic. The ALCARAF were protesting an upcoming march through Lewis ham that was organized by the National Front. Both sides had many supporters and had more than a few heated exchanges on the matter._

_Omar could hear the mayor of Lewis ham finish his speech quoting from his father's recent editorial from a Socialist newspaper protesting the National Front's demonstrations. 'Webster says that 'multi racial society is wrong and is evil.' Well, I ask you which is more evil, those who defend the rights of all or those who demonize all but the few that they think deserve those rights? Who is more evil, the fighters for justice or the demons against it?" The crowd clapped and cheered. From his post, so did Omar filled with pride at his father's words. He had seen Ali night after night struggle with that editorial crafting the right words to incite the public. Omar was thrilled to hear his father's words excite the crowd. It was moments like this that made Ali a hero to Omar. _

_Omar glanced across the street after he passed leaflets to a married couple. He saw the smaller group, shouting insults at the ALCARAF meeting. Omar made out the banner that said: Support England! Support Webster! Join the march! Gang members waved Union Jacks and the National Front logo. "Would you like a leaflet?" Omar shouted to a woman to drown out the insults. _

"_Of course dear," the matronly woman said accepting the leaflet. _

_Omar kept his eyes focused on the group of young men at the front of the NF group. They had made a tight circle cheering as the others had. The group chanted "Make England pure! Make England pure!" _

_One of the young men jumped and cheered with delight until he met Omar's eyes. Omar and Johnny stared at each other from across the street and stopped for a few minutes. The two zeroed in on each other as though they were the only two people on the street. Just then the door to the hall opened. Omar stepped aside as the crowd left the hall. The retreating ALCARAF members only caused the National Front members to chant louder. "Make England pure! Make England pure!" the NF members gained momentum as Omar noted, even Johnny took part in the chanting and marching. Omar turned away trying to ignore his friend.._

_The ALCARAF's mostly ignored them as they returned to their cars or walked down the road. Some chanted "Stop the National Front! Stop the National Front!" to drown them out. Ali approached Omar and wrapped an arm around his son' shoulders. "There how was that?" he asked grandly._

_Omar took one last look at a chanting Johnny then turned to his father. "It was good, Papa, you had them cheering!" He squeezed his father by the shoulder._

"_I hope my editorial does more than that," Ali replied. He pulled on Omar's arm. "Come Omar." Once again the boy glanced longingly at his friend. "Omar come."Ali said more urgently._

_Two nights later, Omar ran to Johnny eagerly as the two fell into another of their secret kisses. "I'm sorry, I'm late, I had to wait until Papa had left." _

"_I can't stay long anyway," Johnny blushed as Omar approached him. "So, we'd better make it worth it." Omar leapt into his lover's arms as the two made love. Omar and Johnny got more involved in their lovemaking process. He remembered how nervous and awkward Omar was at first. He remembered after they had agreed to meet in secret, Johnny candidly asked if Omar had his first time with Johnny. Omar blushed and stammered. "Yes, I've never done it with anyone before. You?"_

_Johnny shrugged. "I've bonked a few here and there." Omar's long face showed his disappointment and Johnny amended his earlier sentence. "But you're the only one that I wanted to bonk more than once. You're the only one that ever mattered." _

_Omar laughed at Johnny's attempt at sincerity. "If that's bollocks, it's the nicest bollocks I've ever heard."_

_The two continued to have sex and lay wrapped in each other's arms. "We need to find a new place to meet," Johnny said. "I thought I saw Genghis spying on me, when I left yesterday."_

_Omar sighed. "I'm sure we'll think of somewhere."_

"_I know you hate this sneaking around bullshit," Johnny said. "So do I, but you know no one will accept us."_

"_It will change someday," Omar said firmly. "Someday, people won't care that we're two men, that we're different races. Someday, we can walk down the streets of London just like any couple."_

"_I wish I could believe that," Johnny said so quietly that his words were muffled by his lips on the top of Omar's head. He glanced at his watch. Johnny removed himself from Omar's grasp and got dressed. "I have to go," Johnny said. "I've got an NF meeting. We've got to stop these ALCARAF wankers from making asses of us."_

_Omar rolled his eyes. "One of those ALCARAF wankers is my father remember? And all he is trying to do is make England democratic for everyone. He's been so preoccupied since the police profiled those men just because they were immigrants."_

"_So, they may have been doing some shit, just because they were immigrants don't mean they were harmless," Johnny stood up. Omar stood next to him his arms crossed.  
"Just because they were immigrants doesn't mean they were doing anything wrong , either," Omar snapped. " Papa says that there are more immigrants arrested than white English people, particularly from Pakistan, India, the West Indies. It can't be a coincidence." _

"_It doesn't matter what they've done," Johnny declared. "It matters what they are doing to our country. Keeping us from working, taking our jobs, invading our homes-"_

"_They or us," Omar reminded him. "Papa says that's just an excuse so that Englishmen can bully anyone they choose. He says-"_

"_-Papa says," Johnny mocked. "How come I don't hear your thoughts instead of your father's? Don't you ever think for yourself, Omo?"_

"_I've seen it too," Omar snapped. "At school, on the streets, I'm not completely sheltered. I've seen many people like me bullied, threatened! Some have been forced out into the streets and beaten severely while crowds just watched! Do your National Front friends ever tell you that?" Johnny wouldn't answer so Omar spoke again. "I'm not the only who doesn't think for himself, then, am I?"_

_The two stood in silence for a few minutes, the accusations of the outside world hung in the air. Neither touched each other instead they stood not wanting to be enemies, but not sure what to say next to preserve their friendship. Johnny was the first to speak. "Shit, you know none of that means anything here. It's all just words, just words. It doesn't change a thing with you, doesn't change a thing here, right?" He took Omar's hand almost as if they were reciting wedding vows._

_Omar nodded wanting to believe that. "Nothing, it's just words," Omar answered. "Just words." The two kissed one more time, for a moment all racism, all anger, the problems in the outside world didn't exist. The only thing that existed were just the two of them locked in their secret embrace. They kissed one last time. "Gotta go," Johnny said as he slipped away. _

_Omar sneaked back into the flat. He hoped that his parents were asleep. He slipped off his shoes and was about to tip-toe to his room, when the sitting room light flooded on. Omar turned to see his father seated on his recliner. "Switching sides on me, eh?" he asked dryly. _

"_No, Papa," Omar replied. "I was just hanging out with some friends."_

_Ali nodded. "A specific friend?"Omar's long look gave the answer. "Omar, he's not worth it. He is part of that fascist group."_

"_He isn't like that though," Omar defended him. "We still have fun together." More fun than he wanted to tell his father, Omar thought. "He's still my friend."_

"_Is he?" Ali asked. "Does he admit that you are still his friend? Do you still often meet in public? What about the girls that he sees? Are they all blond, blue eyed Englishwomen? Does he tell certain jokes, say certain things only to stop if you are in front of them? If there was no understanding between you, no years of friendship, would he still be your friend?"_

_Omar could find no answer to his father's probing questions. "You're wrong, Papa." Omar said._

"_Are you sure?" Ali asked. His son looked down having no answer. "Maybe, I am. But there comes a time when everyone must choose sides, Omar. Which side are you on?" Omar looked at his father in silence but walked to his room. He didn't hear his father whisper ".I hope for your sake Omar that I am wrong."_

_Johnny picked up an English flag as the other National Front stepped in formation ready to march. Genghis and he led Moose and the other boys and some girls into the chant. "Immigrants out!" and other phrases. He felt a righteous indignation as he marched with the others. Since he left school, he had been unable to find work (not that school ever did any good for him anyway) and he had seen many others like him and hearing about the problems immigrants caused. He was angry, furious, and he found himself more and more listening to Webster and Tyndall. Not just half-listening but silently disagreeing, he really listened and followed their moves, attended the rallies, and became more involved. He sometimes found himself walking down a street and seeing Asians or Africans and wondering what they were planning. He alternated between laughing at the jokes that his friends told, and hating himself for laughing. He then shut that inner objection by laughing harder and getting angrier. Sometimes, he enjoyed jeering at the immigrants sometimes verbally and physically waiting until the rage could be released and he could be numb again._

_The only thing that hadn't unraveled was his relationship with Omar. He tried to keep it as secret as possible. He kept telling himself that he was doing this for Omar's benefit so none of his mates could bother him, but the truth was the more committed that he was to the National Front goals, the more disgusted that he felt at his relationship with his friend, a homosexual affair was bad enough but with a Pakistani at that! He wasn't sure what bothered him more._

_Their earlier scene disgusted him. He was trying to explain what they were doing their plans for a better England and Omar was once again blindly defending people like his spineless father. He was getting more and more irritated with his friend and wearied of living a double life with someone he shouldn't be with anyway. Maybe it would be better if Omar and his family just took the hint and left. That way they could be with their own people! Johnny continued to march and chant blocking any more thoughts of Omar and his family from his mind!_

_Omar and Daviya walked to the market. They tried to keep their conversation to safe topics and not the current situation. Ali wanted his son to take part in the demonstration, but she put her foot down and for the first time kept it down. "If you want to make a fool of yourself that wouldn't bother me, but our son does not need to get hurt by all of this!" Ali was furious, but he permitted Daviya to have her way especially when Omar tried to keep peace between the two by reminding his father that he needed the opportunity to study for his A-Level exam, nodded realizing that Omar's education was as important to him as it was to his wife and son. Omar passing his Levels was the only way that he could obtain a scholarship and be accepted to University. Omar silently congratulated himself for hedging off another argument between his parents. They had been having them so much lately._

_The mother and son walked across an occupied street, their arms full of groceries. "Are you prepared for your exams?" Daviya asked. _

"_Trying to be Mama," Omar replied. _

"_You know your father and I are counting on you," Daviya said. Omar sighed. He had heard this line many times."We know you are capable of doing many great things."_

"_I know, Mama," he answered. The two stopped to let cars pass and Daviya looked closely at her teenage son. "Maybe I can be like Uncle Nassar," Omar suggested._

_Daviya bristled. "He is someone that I would never want you to model your life after." She leaned closer to her son trying to understand his needs and worries. "Omar, there is much that troubles you," Daviya began. "I can only begin to understand it, but know that I always love you know matter what lifestyle that you lead."_

_Omar looked at his mother quizzically wondering how much that she knew. Years later, he had always regretted that he didn't ask her more._

_The two crossed the street to see a crowd standing by a road as if to let a parade pass. Daviya tried to push her son away from it, but Omar walked closer to New Cross seeing the ALCARAF standing in a large group as if forming a chain keeping the National Front from getting closer. The marching Englishmen came forward like a threatening tidal wave of prejudice and hatred. The police marched with them as they yelled "Stop the muggers!" Daviya pulled her son back as the ALCARAF headed for the other group ready to stop them. Omar watched fascinated while Daviya clenched her son on the arm so hard that it hurt him. "Do you see your father?" Daviya whispered harshly her voice strangled with fear._

_Omar looked at the ALCARAF group and shook his head. The two groups clashed as they threw more than words at each other. The two groups approached each other and collided like two waves finally pushing towards each other to create a catastrophe. The people standing on the sidelines entered the fray. The two groups began to attack each other with bricks and bottles. The police ran towards the crowds trying their best to break up the chaos. Daviya clung to Omar sobbing. Omar held onto his mother feeling rooted and helpless._

_Several smoke bombs were thrown into the chaos. Johnny couldn't see. He coughed trying to keep sight of Genghis or any of his other friends. Various immigrants and Englishman fought at each other. Johnny pushed someone trying to keep his balance. He ran towards the round body that he knew was Genghis. The smoke was dark and he saw someone attack his friend. He couldn't see clearly but saw Genghis fall at his assailant. "No," Johnny gasped. He screamed grabbing a bottle and threw it on the nearest immigrant's head in anger. The voice gasped. "Johnny?" Johnny looked at the voice and dropped the top of the bottle when Ali sank down blood emerging from his forehead no doubt from the bottle that Johnny had just thrown at him. Johnny glanced at his best friend and lover's father but said nothing as he marched past the ALCARAF and tried to reunite with his friends. _

_Omar screamed. "Papa!" as he saw his father fall. He pulled himself from his mother's arms and approached the melee. _

"_Omar, come back," Daviya yelled but Omar paid no attention to his mother's voice. He pushed past the fighters ducking to avoid any weapons, and coughing at the smoke. He ran to his father's body. He was so still that Omar was afraid that he was dead. Omar shook his head feeling tears come to his eyes as he approached him. Ali's attacker ran from the body. Omar felt the smoke enter his throat and nose and his body churn as Johnny backed away from him. Omar winced not wanting to believe his love could hurt his father. He shut his eyes wanting the horrible scene to disappear._

_Ali coughed as Omar knelt down. Ali tried to sit up as his son held onto him by the shoulders. "Come on, Papa," Omar said. "You need to get out of here." _

_Ali leaned against his son for physical and emotional support. He stood on shaky legs and felt the pain on his head. "Still think he's your friend," Ali joked sardonically. Omar didn't answer as he walked his father out of the smoke and the dwindling fight. _

_A rough hand grabbed Ali by the shoulder. The father and son turned to see a policeman standing over them. He grabbed Ali by the arm. "You are coming with me," he said tersely._

"_He isn't going with you," Omar objected determined holding onto his father. "He's hurt! He needs a doctor!"_

"_He's coming with us," the police officer shouted his voice getting fiercer. He pulled Ali away from his son. _

_Omar was about to say more when Ali held a hand to his son's shoulder. "Omar, sometimes it's best to know when to surrender." Omar let go of his father's shoulder as Ali turned to the police officer silent as he slapped handcuffs on him and arrested him with other demonstrators for disturbing the peace and rioting._

_Omar watched the declining protestors as they were rounded up, arrested, or carried on ambulances. Some smaller groups ran to another stop ready to continue to fight. He didn't see Johnny anywhere, and Omar wasn't sure that he would want to. He returned to his mother forcing himself to feel numb so that his heart wouldn't break anymore than it already had. _

_Johnny and Omar didn't see each other again after that day._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: We All Fall Down, Like Toy Soldiers

Omar and Johnny lay next to each other keeping one another abreast on their news. Johnny told Omar about some of the work that he had done near Liverpool, particularly mechanical contracting. "Thanks to some horrible greedy shrewish tyrant that I once worked for, I discovered I had a knack for it. Didn't think I had much of a knack for nothing."

Omar smirked and kissed Johnny full on ravishing him once more with his body. "Well then you couldn't see in yourself what this 'horrible greedy shrewish tyrant' sees. So, any tyrants like you as much as I do."

Johnny shrugged. "None that have said." Truth be told, Johnny never found a working experience near as wonderful as working with Omar and he wasn't looking. He just moved from place to place feeling rootless and trying to avoid questions that he was no longer sure that he could answer.

Omar also updated Johnny with information about his family such as Tania's relationship with Max and Frida ("Tania a stepmum Unbelievable, staggers the mind", Johnny teased- with Omar noted no jealousy or romantic feelings about her- but in a mocking brotherly tone) and Cherry's pregnancy.

"Well that's that then," Johnny said. "Call out the dogs, get the guns ready, the end really is nigh. Y'know it's funny, I thought the birth of the Antichrist, y'know Satan's son, would be heralded by more plagues and locusts."

Omar playfully shoved Johnny on the shoulder and Johnny moved closer to him kissing up and down his neck and into his soft dark hair. "Ha ha, keep it up. You watch what you say about Salim, even if it is true. He is family after all so you have to behave yourself around him when you return."

Johnny stopped nuzzling Omar's ear and moved away. "I beg your pardon? Run that by me again."

Omar sighed but then cuddled up closer to Johnny. "You're going to have to be nice to Sali-"

"No, I meant the other part about 'when I return?'" Johnny asked.

"Well you're coming back aren't you," Omar said. "I mean I've got Gigi and Del, but I can work something out with them. The launderette really missed you and the mop, the broom." Omar continued to kiss his lover but Johnny moved away and sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over the side. He didn't look at Omar. Omar felt like hitting himself. When would he learn to watch that mouth of his? "I was just kidding." Johnny didn't respond. "Listen if you don't want to work for me, that's fine you're fired! I have Gigi and Del. You don't have to work under me! We can be partners! I have a partnership with Zaki now! Maybe you can run his place. You can do anything, but please you can't leave!"

"I can do anything but I can't leave," Johnny smirked. "Ain't that a contradiction in terms then? So we walk out this door and everything'll be perfect? Suddenly everyone will be all open armed about us? All them racists, homophobes, suddenly disappear. Maybe your father will walk you down the aisle right into me arms then."

"I'm not saying that it will be perfect," Omar said. He embraced Johnny wanting to transfer his dreams and his needs to him. "But, please I want to fight with you, so we can get that future! It's not perfect right now but someday it will be! Someday, this will be the best business ever! Someday you and I will be accepted just like any other couple! Someday, everyone will see just how wonderful you are and how special you are to me!"

Johnny laughed bitterly. Still his dreamer Omar, he still believed in that magical world of "Someday." That someday if they worked hard enough, planned big enough, loved strong enough, then maybe someday everything will be better and more perfect than it had been before and all problems would just magically go away. In the past, Johnny wanted to believe that. He wanted to hold on to those dreams as much as he held onto the Pakistani romantic who dreamed them, but he knew that no matter how much those plans came about, he knew that they would never happen. There were just too many obstacles against them. Now, he just wanted to shake Omar, break him of these fantasies, and make him live in the real world. _Don't do this to me, Omar,_ he thought_, don't set me up so high. I don't belong there_! He inwardly begged.

"You know nothing's changed," Johnny said getting out of bed and getting dressed. "Tell me one thing, are you willing to take me hand and walk into your Uncle's house and tell everyone that I'm your man and the hell with you getting married?"

Omar gave a sarcastic bitter laugh. "Well that's neither here nor there seeing as how I accidentally outed myself at Uncle Nassar's party last night. I think that I won't be very high up on their guest list for some time now. So a few more marks against my character won't matter."

"And you forgot about your rape and all?" Johnny taunted. Omar had turned his back on his lover and was obviously reaching for something in his trouser pockets. Johnny idly wondered if it was a condom since he had heard something about a "gay cancer." He wondered if Omar had heard it too, but he saw that Omar wasn't reaching for a condom. Johnny peered over Omar's shoulder and saw him reach for a bottle of pills. He unscrewed the top and popped one in his mouth. Johnny looked up and down his lover's emaciated body and felt like kicking himself. How could he have been so stupid to have not seen it? True Omar was never the most muscular of men. In fact the terms "scrawny" and "wiry" could have best been thrown about him especially when he was younger. But now, with his lover's sunken cheeks, rib cage that was clearly showing, his fevered looks, not to mention his aggressive manic behavior last night, Johnny should have known the truth: Omar was turning into a drug addict if he wasn't one already. He wondered how long that this had been going on since he had left, since Omar was raped? Did his family not know or did they turn a blind eye to it and where was he getting them from? But he knew the answer to that one: Salim. As if he needed another reason to hate that bastard. "And you're gonna get rid of your little speed freak friends then?"

Omar shook his head. "These are nothing to me. I just needed them to help me through the day and to kill the pain."

"Lover's Little Helper," Johnny jeered. Privately he wondered which pain Omar needed help killing, but then guessed that it was all of them.

Omar continued as if ignoring him. "I can quit any time that I want to. Besides what do you care? I've seen you take worse!" He started to become very angry. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't take?" Johnny wouldn't answer so Omar continued "So where are you going then? To one of your other jobs or back to causing trouble?" Johnny looked crestfallen so Omar continued. "Because you know that you aren't good for anything else!" Johnny whirled around to face his lover. His eyes flashed as though he wanted to hit him. He grabbed Omar's wrist tightly.

Omar pushed free and wrapped his arms around Johnny. Johnny grabbed his lover's wrists as Omar struggled frantically. "Johnny, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! You mean everything to me! If it's the speed, I'll quit, I promise! I'm not like Papa, I don't need them!" Even though he said that, Johnny privately noted that Omar made no attempt to throw the pills out or discard them. Omar continued to beg. "Johnny please stay with me, please. I lost you twice already and both times it nearly destroyed me. I can't bear it if I lose you again!" His eyes watered and his voice shook with fear that Johnny hadn't heard from his lover since they were children. "Don't leave me, please don't leave me! If it's the business, I'll sell it! I'll run away with you! I'll do anything you want!" Omar began to cry but Johnny dropped his lover's wrists. "Johnny I just want to be where you are!"

Johnny wanted to laugh. Omar the businessman, Omar the ambitious one was actually offering to chuck everything his business, his family, and to hell with everyone else just to have Johnny with him. For a brief second, Johnny thought about taking him up on that offer. But he knew that it was a false one: Omar wasn't speaking completely out of love, he was speaking out of hysteria, panic, fear of loneliness, and yes probably the speed was also doing the talking. Besides, even if it were true, Omar would be miserable in a matter of days. Johnny could not picture his lover making that kind of sacrifice and commitment and frankly Johnny wouldn't want him to.

"There will always be forces tearing us apart, Omo," Johnny said sadly. "Maybe it's about time that we took the hint." Johnny put his hands on Omar's cheek as Omar's tears fell on his fingers. Omar held onto Johnny's wrist and kissed the palm of his lover's hand. "I'm sorry, Omo," Johnny said letting the tears come to his eyes as well.

Cherry stood in her room looking through the window. She drummed her fingers on the glass pane. She waited one more half hour and she was a free woman! One half- hour and he would come! She felt the kicks inside her womb. The pain was worse than she ever imagined. " Stop it you little shit," she ordered the child within her. She just hoped that he would come before Salim did. The pain became greater, stronger than the usual kicks. Cherry caught her breath. If what she was planning would work, then she would have the money, immunity and would ultimately be freed from this house and the man whom she had longed come to despise. Just thirty more minutes, could she wait that long?

Suddenly, Cherry felt a sharp pain hitting her as though they were contractions. She knelt down and grabbed the drapes for support. She breathed in and out trying to calm herself. She arose on weak and shaky knees as the pain subsided. "There that wasn't so bad was it?" she said out loud to the child. Cherry looked down at the water that had ran down her uterus and trickled down her legs falling into a small puddle on the floor "Not now, you stupid little brat, not now," she yelled. She sighed and reached for the phone. Cherry dialed a number hoping that there would be an answer. A warm female voice answered," Hello?"

"Bilques," Cherry called surprised at how weak her voice sounded. "Please come right away! The baby's early!"

Omar placed his father's food on the tray then served him. He had returned after his fight with Johnny last night, broken but forcing himself to contribute to his usual activities to deaden the loss that he now felt. Ali methodically spread margarine on his bread, and then glanced at his son who was checking his reflection in the mirror. ""You aren't eating anything?"

"I'll get something at the launderette later," Omar said. What he wasn't telling his father and didn't want to tell him was that he barely ate not so much as a desire to lose weight or to control a diet, so much as a chronic inability to eat. He was often too keyed up concerned about other things that food moved to last place in his life. The few times that he was in front of food, he had completely lost any appetite for it. Just looking at the toast and bacon that he prepared for his father made Omar sick.

Omar straightened his tie not wanting to see the reflection in front of him. The reflection showed a young man who looked emaciated and feverish with blood shot eyes and was too haggard in appearance for the young knock-about businessman around town. He couldn't approach Zaki and his uncle like this. He was surprised that they still wanted to speak to him after last night. He wondered if maybe they thought the outburst was the result of working too hard or a momentary lapse of weakness. There was no need to show them anymore. He glanced at the dresser drawer for his sunglasses. Ali weighed his words before saying more. "Omar, you know I want to help you if you are in trouble."

"I already told you Papa," Omar said. "I'm not in trouble and there isn't anything you can do even if I were."

"I am not a fool, Omar," Ali said, his voice harsher than he intended. He softened his voice, "I know that you haven't been eating and no I don't believe that you will get something later. You are irritable and easily agitated. You barely sleep. I have seen the empty pill bottles in the lavatory. Those dark glasses can only fool people for so long. Omar, you must stop this before you destroy your entire life!"

Omar whirled around to face his father. He dropped his sunglasses so Ali could definitely see the flash in his son's eyes. "I am not going to take this from anyone, but especially not from you!"

Ali looked around their flat and the piles of broken glass and whiskey and vodka bottles. Not for the first time did he feel the sting of guilt and remorse for nearly a life time of crawling inside a bottle. "I know, Omar but this was my choice and I have to live with the consequences," he said sadly. "Don't let my decisions affect yours."

Omar put the dark glasses back on and headed for the door. "I'm not Papa. I choose not to be a failure." He said as he slammed the door. Omar locked the door feeling sense of remorse and shame. In less than a 24 hour period he had humiliated himself at his uncle's party, broke up with the love of his life probably for good now, and insulted his father. What was next for an encore? Knocking Frida down a flight of stairs and earning Tania and Max's hatred as well? Omar slapped himself on the forehead, but paid it no mind. He had many other things to do and he had to get them all done. He just had to.

Nassar was working in his office when he received the call. "Hello, this is Nassar Hussein, may I help you?" his voice had its usual pomposity and bravado until he realized who it was. "Rachel?"

Salim who until before had been looking out the window of the parking garage and pacing glanced at Nassar in surprise and suspicion.

"Nassar," Rachel sounded breathless and hysterical over the phone. "I know that we ended this, and I would not even want to contact you if it wasn't important, but I need to speak with you!"

Nassar rolled his eyes. What could she possibly want? Women were often hysterical about such trivial matters. He was half-tempted to pay it no mind, but on the other hand-Rachel did honor her promise in not speaking or communicating with Nassar, despite his contempt over it. So this must be important indeed."Alright, can you come by the parking garage?" Nassar asked.

"No!" Rachel shot back. "Not if Salim is there!" Nassar glanced upward at his business partner who was silent but glanced at him with extreme suspicion and was that hostility? What did he have to do with any of this? "Meet me somewhere neutral. Can you meet at the launderette in about a half an hour?"

Nassar looked down at his paperwork. He technically had too much to do, but then again it would be wonderful to see Rachel again. "In half an hour," he agreed.

"Thank you and please it's very important that you not tell Salim," Rachel repeated. "I'll see you then."

"Rachel I don't understand what does-" he glanced again at his partner. He did not like that hateful expression on Salim's face-"_he_ have to do with this?" The call ended. "Rachel, Rachel?" Nassar said to the dial tone. He hung up confused.

"That was Rachel?" Salim asked. "Would like to rekindle your romance would she?"

"Um something like that," Nassar added glancing at his watch.

"And who," Salim spat with venom. He looked at Nassar in a way that made him feel as much fear as he did as a child."-is the 'he' that has to do with this?"

Nassar felt much shaken at his younger relative and friend, a man whom he had regarded as a younger brother even a son that he did not have. "Rachel has a new suitor. She doesn't want him to find out about our impending reunion. "

"That's all," Salim questioned.

Nassar nodded. "That's all."

Salim grinned and approached his older relative with a firm but hearty handshake and pulled him closer. He whispered in his ear. "I believe you, but if I found out that you are lying and that I was the topic of conversation, then I will personally wring your fat aged neck!" Nassar should have lectured his younger assistant on the chain of command, but Salim's tone frightened him more. He nodded and for the first time in a long time, could not find any words to say.

The phone rang bringing both Pakistani businessmen out of their tense confrontation. Nassar gulped and answered the phone trying to retain the earlier bravado that he possessed. "Nassar Hussein, may I help you?" He nodded and handed the phone over to Salim. "It's for you."

Salim grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Salim," one of his associates called. "I'm at Heathrow! You need to get out of here! Field knows I'm sure of it! Get out as soon as you can!" Salim glared at his older relative. His eyes reddened with a manic rage. He hung up the phone.

He approached Nassar and shook him hard. "Please Salim, I am an old man!" Nassar begged.

"You, what did you tell them!" Salim raged pushing him. His body shook with anger and betrayal at the man who he had considered a colleague and a close friend. "What did you say to her? I found out Rachel's brother is a police officer and was just promoted to drug crime! Did you know that? You must have! It can't be a coincidence that she called you! What did you tell them? If it wasn't you was it Omar? That little shit suddenly develops a habit? You're involved in this together, you want to destroy me!" He shook Nassar so hard that the older man felt like that Salim would break him. "What did you tell them?" He screamed again.

He threw Nassar towards the desk. "I don't know what you are talking about, Salim! I didn't tell anyone anything! I didn't even know Rachel had a brother until you just told me and I hadn't spoken with her until just now!"

Salim darted anxiously around as though expecting enemies around every corner. Nassar once again stood up and tried to face his younger partner. Salim looked once more at his former mentor, friend, and surrogate father. With a savage brutal look, he punched Nassar sending him to the ground as he ran out on his heels. Nassar caught his breath as he heard the squeak of the tires in Salim's car and hear him speed away.

The office was quiet too quiet. Nassar sat in stunned silence. The phone broke into his thoughts before he could accurately collect them. "Nassar Hussein, what is it?" he asked brashly.

"Nassar?" Zaki's voice sounded confused. "I'm here with my brother and Omar. Are you alright?"

Nassar took a deep breath. No matter what happened he was a businessman, first and foremost. "Yes, I am alright. I haven't forgotten our meeting. In fact if you like, I will meet you and we can go to the launderette in would-"he glanced at his watch"-twenty minutes be sufficient?"

Zaki appeared to pull away from the phone to converse with his other confederates. "We'll meet you there in 20 minutes," Zaki replied.

Genghis expected a bit more of camaraderie when he explained his plans to his mates. Moose and the others just stared at each other with confusion. Some even looked frightened by the idea and were they even appalled? "Are you serious mate?" Moose asked.

"I'm always serious, now will you boys join me or not?" he asked. "Do we mean what we really say here or don't we? "

The guys just glanced at each other. "Hey it's one thing to do what we do," Moose said. "I didn't even mind trashing that Paki's car a few months ago, but what you're talking about-I mean that's crazy man!"

"A few less Pakis in the world won't matter," Genghis said through clenched teeth that frightened his friends. "Besides Moose you of all people should understand. "

Moose looked at his friends. True, the guy had run over his leg. True, he would have loved to take an even bigger swing at him. But this, this wasn't the answer and he knew it. This was dangerous, even suicidal. Besides Moose knew that Genghis didn't care about what happened to his leg. He was just using it as yet another excuse for his private war. One that had escalated beyond what any of the other guys had wanted. "But Genghis, Pakis may not be the only ones that die. Other people, some of our people, will die too!"

Genghis' voice had a low growl one that frightened his friends. "Then they should know better than to crawl to outsiders for their business then shouldn't they?" Moose hoped that he could make his friend see reason but reason and Genghis had not been close companions for a long time ever since the rapes. He had been bringing young immigrant boys and girls by their place and assaulting them as if he marked each one as yet another victory. He had been doing it since Johnny left them the first time, but had increased when Johnny briefly returned almost as though he claimed a victory over his friend. Moose remembered clearly the night that Genghis returned from the launderette all full of himself for violating Johnny's friend even insinuating that he and Johnny were exes and that Genghis had ruined him forever for their former leader. Technically, Genghis would be labeled a race defiler for these actions, and worse for the fact that some of his conquests were men, but somehow Moose didn't suspect that he cared about that so much as he found a new way to destroy the enemy. Unfortunately, that list of enemies in their leader's eyes was getting longer by the day.

"Now are you going with me or not?" Genghis asked, his eyes taking on an almost insane look. What little sanity their leader may have had before was now disappearing. Moose shook his head. He waited for a few seconds, wondering what Genghis and the guys would do to him if he were the only one who refused to join. He shouldn't have worried. The others stood by him and none would move to join Genghis in his now private war. Genghis looked at his old gang with menace and determination. "Fine, then I will do it myself!" He said as he picked up the full gasoline can and some small electrical equipment and wiring and stormed out of the door.

The lads were silent. Moose overheard one say out loud. "Times like this I am really starting to miss Johnny." Moose couldn't help but agree.

Tania dropped off the last of her notes for Latika at the post office. Soon she, Max, and Frida would be heading home for Paris. It was funny how she considered that city home to her now. Of course it had given her much more than London or any other ever had. Living there had given her a job that she loved, a mentor that she could admire, and of course a wonderful man and his lovely daughter that she could envision spending the rest of her life with. She couldn't wait to return.

Tania took the long way past the launderette. She really should say good-bye to Omar to thank him properly. Now that they were friends and neither had to worry about an arranged marriage, she liked talking to him. She was also concerned about him too and hoped that he could find real happiness for himself as well as she had. She entered the doorway and gave a slight wave to Gigi. Both Gigi and Del were talking to another woman who had her back turned to Tania. Gigi nodded and waved back. _Where is Omar?_, Tania mouthed. _Out_, Gigi mouthed back and gestured with her thumb. The gesture must have interested the woman that they were speaking to because she turned around to face the open door. Both Tania and the other woman stared open mouthed and agape at each other. Tania felt what remained of her lunch leap to her throat. Looking at Rachel, Tania felt like she was going to be sick. The only comfort that she had was Rachel looked the same way.

Bilques arrived with her younger daughters and some older women such as Fassia. She began giving orders as soon as she arrived. "Fassia, get some warm water. Raina, go prepare some pillows to make Cherry comfortable. Dasha, get a wet cloth for Cherry's forehead. Cherry, come with me." All of the women obeyed as Bilques led her younger cousin by marriage upstairs. "Where is Salim?" she asked as Cherry clutched her stomach and almost fell in pain.

Cherry shook her head. "I don't know and I don't care," She said screaming at the pain. Bilques didn't respond to her comment instead she led the younger woman to her bed as the other women arrived with the necessary equipment. Cherry motioned for Dasha her youngest daughter to rub ointment on Cherry's temples and to put the cloth over her forehead. "Will this take long," Cherry asked as she felt the pain grab hold of her once again.

"It will take as long as it has to," Bilques told her as she washed her hands and moved inside Cherry's uterus. "Now, I need you to push." She urged as Cherry pushed hard.

"Alright, Cherry," Bilques encouraged the younger woman. "Just one more push. You are doing alright, just one more."

Cherry was upheld by one of Bilques' daughters and Fassia. Her pale face had completely reddened by the strain. "Is he here yet?" she gasped glancing through the window.

"I'm sure that he will be here soon," one of the women said taking her by the hand. Despite the stress, Cherry wanted to laugh. The woman no doubt thought that she was referring to Salim.

Bilques looked down. The baby's head was crowning! "He's coming out; you're doing fine, Cherry! Just one more!"

"I can't do it," Cherry said weakly. It would be fitting in an ironic way that she would die so close to freedom.

"Yes you can," Bilques encouraged. "You can do this for your child. You can do this!" Cherry nodded and pushed one last time as Bilques pulled the baby out. Cherry sighed with relief as her cousin slapped the little one on the behind and he started crying. Bilques looked at him. "You have a son," she said.

Cherry smiled a thin tight smile and though she had tears in her eyes, Bilques noted that she didn't seem too happy over the prospect. She suspected that Salim was the problem. "Would you like to hold him?" she asked. Cherry nodded as her older relative handed the child over to his mother. Cherry looked down at her son. She smiled and looked at him with pleased and tearful eyes. Bilques was confused. All of the actions were there. Cherry even kissed her infant son on the top of his forehead, but they seemed hollow and cold as though Cherry were merely acting a part for an audience. The sharp squeal of a tire stopping in the parking lot broke Bilques from her thoughts.

Raina, her older daughter, turned from the window. "Uncle Salim is here," she said.

Cherry winced. "God damn it," she glowered. "Don't let him come up here!" Bilques didn't want to interfere with their squabbles so she walked downstairs where Salim entered his flat, looking very furious and agitated.

"Out of my way," he commanded his cousin by marriage. Bilques stepped aside as he ran to his private room.

"Salim," she called behind him as he left the door open rummaging through grabbing a suitcase and throwing clothes and other things. He grabbed a video tape and stomped on it. "Salim, your son has been born," Bilques tried once again to get his attention but he paid her no mind as he grabbed some money and reached inside a drawer and pulled out a gun. He looked inside the barrel, but noticing that it was empty reached for some bullets. "What on earth are you doing?" Bilques asked.

"Thanks to that stupid ass that you married and your fucking nephew, I have to leave the country before the police find me," Salim commanded as he reached for the final bullet and just about closed the chamber. A wail broke through the proceedings. "What the fuck is that?"

"That is your son," Bilques said.

"My son?" Salim asked. For a brief second his face softened into something almost human but then he shook his head as though he had broken from a trance and his expression hardened once more. He closed the gun barrel with snap. " He is not of mine," he declared as though that were the final word on the matter. "I won't make this easy for them," Salim said. "Tell my wife good-bye and your husband and Omar that if I ever see them again, then they are dead men!" He grabbed his bag and stormed out of the house.

Salim reached for his car ready to make a smooth getaway. He unlocked the door and used his prosthetic hand to start the key. He wasn't quite used to this false hand yet and he had to maneuver it properly to get the car started. The key turned and he sighed with relief until he heard a voice. "Salim Hussein," Salim glanced at the approaching visitor. He was a man with graying dark hair. "We have a warrant for your arrest." Salim didn't answer. Instead, he turned around to see other police officers surrounding him.

"The hell you do," Salim commanded. He stopped the car and leaped off from the seat. He was about to run inside the house and open the door when he saw Cherry stand as if preventing him from entering.

"It seems that fate has dealt you a very nasty hand," his wife said with triumph. It took Salim only a half-second to process the information that neither Nassar nor Omar had betrayed him. The traitor was his wife, Cherry! Salim aimed his gun and grabbed his wife by the arm.

"One move and she dies," Salim ordered. He backed away from the police officers and the house. "That's it," he commanded as he slowly opened the car door and entered the driver's seat. He was about to close the door when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a police officer, that Sgt. Toby Field the one that his associate told him was Rachel's brother approach him. With a rage-filled scream, Salim shot the officer point blank. Things moved rather quickly. Two police officers grabbed Salim from behind and confiscated the gun from him. They shoved him on top of the car and slapped hand cuffs on him. As Salim looked up and headed for the police car, he saw the look of triumph and victory on his wife's face. He vowed that she would never wear that expression again.

"Tania," Gigi said trying to be friendly in a very obviously difficult moment. "This is-"

"I know who she is," Tania snapped. "What are you doing here?" Both women said in unison glaring at each other.

"I'm here to see your father," Rachel said.

"Not surprised," Tania smirked. "I'm here to see Omar."

Gigi poked Del on the ribcage. "Del, I think we should be where others are not." At first Del didn't take the hint so she shoved her friend harder.

"Ow," Del complained then caught the expression on her face. "Oh yeah, in fact I hear the telephone ringing." He cupped his hand on his ear to the very obvious silence. "I'll get that." Gigi and Del turned away from the duo as Rachel and Tania continued to glare daggers at each other. If looks could kill, Gigi and Del would have really hated to call the police for a double homicide.

"Omar, then?" Rachel asked. "So you two are engaged? When is the wedding?"

Tania looked at the woman in surprise. "You mean you don't know. What my father doesn't discuss family in front of his other woman? You don't know that I haven't been living in London for almost a year?"

"I haven't seen your father in some time now," Rachel replied. "This is the first time in several months that I am going to meet him. "

"Why is that," Tania said sarcastically. "Do you need a new fur coat or a pair of stockings?"

Rachel was about to lose her cool. She was half-tempted to slap Tania across the face. "I have some information to give him, that's all."

Tania smiled in a "yeah right" expression. Rachel continued to ask. "How have you been living?"

"Not off of other men," Tania countered. "I am an assistant in Paris to a prominent feminist author and lecturer."

"How fortunate for you," Rachel said somewhat wistful and a slight touch of envy. A thought occurred to her. "Does your father even know you're in London?" Tania's expression gave her all the information that she needed. "Why? Do you have something to hide?"

Tania looked at the woman incredulously. "Unlike the shameful dirty secret of having a mistress while being married, I have nothing to hide! I think I can live my own life without my father's permission!"

"Then why are you hiding from him," Rachel countered back.

"I refuse to listen to this," Tania said backing away. "I refuse to hear a lecture about honesty from a parasitic trollop!"

Rachel approached the girl. "Why you little-" But that was as far as she got when the explosion occurred.

It was loud covering the small launderette. The building started to shake as customers and employees were knocked to the ground. Del and Gigi fell into each other on the way down. The force sent Rachel and Tania falling into each other. "What was that?" a woman asked getting hysterical. No one knew. Rachel was a child during WWII, but she remembered hiding in the shelters during the Blitz and hearing the bombs and airplanes overhead. For a brief insane moment, she thought that it was one of Jerry's bombs that came back for revenge. She weakly stood as Tania also stood. "Are you alright?" she asked. Tania nodded. Just then the building rocked with the loudest explosion ever! Smoke emerged from the back and the ceiling threatened to cave in. The window completely shattered by the force of the sound!

"EVERYBODY OUT!" Del yelled. The launderette was filled with panic as customers and employees scrambled out the door. A few got hit with stray debris and were knocked out during their escape.

Rachel and Tania still had each other by the arm. Rachel balanced the younger woman. "Come on, let's go," she said.

"Not with you," Tania struggled but that was as far as she got when a piece of debris from the roof fell on top of her head. Tania instantly collapsed from the fall.

"Tania," Rachel gasped. The young girl was unconscious and pale. Blood seeped from her mouth. Rachel picked her up and carried her out. "Come on dear," she begged.

Rachel got outside just in time as the back part of the launderette roof collapsed. The front exteriors still hung but by a thread and both windows were shattered completely. Rachel lay Tania on the cold hard ground and opened the girl's mouth. "This is a bad time to mention this, but I was all thumbs during First Aid," she joked weakly. She breathed into the young woman's mouth and began pumping her stomach. "Come on, Tania. Come on, Poppet, wake up," she said. "Your father would never forgive me if something happened to you! Open your eyes dear. I always did think that you were a lovely young woman now you have to open those beautiful eyes!" She breathed into her again. "Come on, wake up, Tania!"

The emergency workers arrived as she worked on her. Firefighters, police officers, and ambulances arrived with their alarms and bells ringing and clanging. An ambulance stopped in front of Rachel and Tania and two emergency workers appeared. "Excuse me, mum," one said. "We'll take it from here." Rachel nodded and stepped back as they strapped the young woman to the gurney and used the defibrillator on her as well as covered her with a gas mask. "I have a slight pulse," one yelled excited. He led her into the ambulance.

"May I come with her?" Rachel asked.

The paramedic looked at her. "Are you her mother?" he asked.

"No, I'm sort of well a friend of the family," Rachel answered. "I just want to stay with her until her parents arrive." The paramedic waved his hand as if to say that he didn't care and Rachel entered the vehicle behind them.

Johnny talked to the pawnbroker as he examined his watch. Since he lost Omar, he had no reason to stay in London. There were too many bad memories and maybe it was about time that he started over with a new life.

"Alright, I'll give you 60 for it," the broker said.

Johnny scoffed. "This thing is genuine. It cost me 100." Technically, Johnny stole it but he wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction of knowing that.

"Yeah, but it's seen better days, mate," the broker said. "Take it or leave it."

Johnny rolled his eyes. He really wanted to punch this man's lights out, but he stayed his hand. "Alright then." The broker handed Johnny the money just as they heard a loud sound. The two men fell over. "What the hell was that?" he asked.

"Got me man," the broker said. "It sounds a little like Jerry's bombs but this ain't the Blitz no more." Johnny accepted the money as was about to leave when a second explosion occurred louder than the first caused him to fall in and grab onto the doorway for support. The punk looked outside at the people who stood frozen pointing or glancing at a far-off direction where the sound was coming from. Johnny felt his heart sink. Could it be-? No, surely fate couldn't be that unkind for something to have happened to Omar.

Emergency vehicles screamed down the road towards the explosion. They rode up to the corner when Johnny whispered. "No, please don't turn left," he begged quietly. Despite his plea, the vehicles sped towards the left. "Fuck it," Johnny swore and ran to the direction of the vehicles and the explosion that he hoped hadn't happened.

Max was caught up in painting his portrait of Tania. He was listening to light classical music on his walkman so he was deaf to the outside world. It sometimes took the act of an army to break him from his creative trance, so he didn't hear his daughter call him until she tapped him on the shoulder and yell in his ear. "PAPAN!" She removed his headphones.

Max jumped in surprise. "Frida, I have told you before not to interrupt me while I am working!"

"But, Papan," Frida said pointing at the television. "Look!"

Max followed his daughter's finger to the news break. Max approached the television and turned up the sound. A dark-haired female newscaster stood in front of the remains of a launderette, a familiar looking launderette. "We have received word that this launderette called Powders, has been a target of a bomb. There have been no arrests made though police are asking questions. Five people are reported to be injured. While there are no definite suspects, police have considered the explosion as the result of Neo-Nazis in the area. Powders had been the target of such crimes in the past and the area is known to be a hotbed of racial tension." That was as far as she got when Max turned off the television

"Come on, Liebchen," Max said taking his daughter by the hand. "Let's go!"

Omar listened to Zaki , Nassar and his brother talk in their usual blustering way as they rode in Zaki's car. The two brothers talked, which wasn't surprising but Nassar was unusually quiet which was. Omar wondered if he was still trying to figure out how to deal with him after last night."Do you enjoy wearing those glasses?" Zaki's brother asked.

"It keeps the glare out," Omar replied.

Zaki laughed. "Actually it's very fashionable for young people to wear them these days, because of that man in that movie, _Rusty Business_."

Omar laughed. "It's _Risky, Risky Business_. It's a good movie." Of course for Omar the best part was Tom Cruise dancing around in his underwear to "Old Time Rock and Roll," but he didn't want to mention that.

"Isn't all business risky?" Nassar asked as the other men laughed.

"Oh by the way, Omar," Zaki's brother said. " Zaki and Nassar showed me pictures of the interior to the launderette and it looks incredible. You did a fine job! In fact if you are interested in making a little money on the side, I will be opening a restaurant in the area and I would like to hire you to do the design and contract work."

"A few more buildings designed the way the launderette is could really do wonders for this area," Nassar suggested.

Omar smiled tight lipped. "Thank you, but really I had nothing to do with it. A bloke that used to work for me did most of the work."

The brother smiled. "Well if you do see him, let him know that I would be very interested in his expertise."

"I'll tell him," Omar agreed. _If I ever see him again_, he thought bitterly. The car drove up to the launderette and the men got the shock of their lives. The launderette lay in ruins and police and ambulances were spread about putting people in stretchers and asking questions. Reporters were in front of cameras and writing in notebooks reporting the news. Firefighters put out the remains of the fire and the whole area was barricaded.

Zaki stopped his car and the men stepped out. Zaki, Nassar, and Zaki's brother approached the catastrophic scene with trepidation and fear. Omar hung about behind staying where he was, frozen. Nassar approached the barricade. "Oy," an authoritarian voice called. "You can't get through there!"

Nassar approached the officer. "My name is Nassar Hussein, my nephew owns this place. What happened here?"

The police officer shrugged. "As far as we can tell it was a bomb," he said. "You know anyone who might have done it?"

"I'm a businessman," Nassar said. "Anyone might have done it!" From behind him, he heard one of the paramedics rattling a list of names to the reporter including two words that Nassar hoped that he would never hear in this context, "Tania" and "Hussein." Nassar held up a finger to the police officer then approached the medical technician. "Excuse me, did you say Tania Hussein?" he asked.

" Yeah, she's one of the injured. Why do you know her?" the paramedic asked.

"I'm her father," Nassar said sadly. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe what Omar told him last night that Tania had returned to London. He thought it was part of his nephew's fevered mind. But, he never imagined that it would be true that the daughter that he had been worried about and had cut out of his life, to avoid feeling that ache was injured and could be dead. "Where was she taken?" he asked.

Omar stayed far from the launderette watching the chaos. He struggled to hold onto his thoughts, his sanity anything but it wasn't working. The panic surges returned causing him to hyperventilate and his heart to race. The images swirled around, the smoke, fire, the chaos was overpowering. He could hear several voices in his head taunting and accusing him:"Immigrants out! Immigrants out! …."I am so sick of hearing about these in-betweens, people should make up their minds about where they are"…"Your family rich and powerful back home has been let down by you!"…."They came here to work for us!" …."They hate us in England and all you can do is kiss their asses and think of yourself as a little Britisher!"…."Such failure, such emptiness!"…."You pathetic scum should go back where you came from!" …."Do you care nothing for your family?"…."There will always be forces tearing us apart , Omar. Maybe, it's about time that we took the hint."…."I choose not to be a failure."

Omar shut his ears trying to silence the voices that he could no longer argue with. He had no business, no lover, and no family, now. He now knew what everyone else knew: He was nothing. "Please, let me hide! Let me disappear!," he chanted. "Let me disappear! Let me hide!" He backed away and turned from the catastrophe and the world that he no longer deserved.

Johnny approached the launderette with disbelief. He saw Nassar enter a car. "Nassar," Johnny yelled grabbing the older man by the arm. At first, he reacted confused until he realized who was addressing him. "What happened?"

Nassar moved stunned as though he were sleepwalking. "A bomb, I think… There are people injured, Tania-" Johnny had never seen the old man like this unable to compose himself. He cleared his throat. "I must go to her." Johnny nodded as Nassar joined Zaki in the car.

"Omar," Johnny called. "Have you seen, Omar?" But Nassar didn't hear him as they drove away. Johnny approached the launderette. He knelt under the police barricade ignoring the police officers order to remain where he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar figure behind the launderette. He stealthily approached him knowing who had caused the explosion and why.

Genghis nodded with satisfaction. The bomb worked. Now all of those dirty immigrants will take the hint that they will never belong to this country. He hoped beyond all hope that pathetic Paki lover of Johnny's was in there. Just thinking about him made Genghis burn with hatred. If he were dead, it would be a relief but if he were alive then Genghis would have finally broken him. Either way he would win. He was about to leave, when someone ran up to him and punched him.

"Get the fuck off of me, traitor," Genghis commanded Johnny. He punched Johnny and the two rolled a bit on the ground.

"This ain't the way and you know it," Johnny yelled. "What you destroy a building and feel superior now!"

"Better that than have them lord over us," Genghis replied. "You thought that once!" The two pummeled each other until Johnny pushed him towards the wall.

"I'm not like you," Johnny thundered as he stood up. "And I never will be!"

"You're going back to him?" Genghis practically screamed. "He's nothing just some wot boy scum! He ain't nothing like us!"

"I know and I'm glad of it," Johnny said as the police came from behind him. "Oh yeah and one more thing," he said as he kicked his former friend in the ribs. "That was for Omar!"

Omar stepped outside of the rummage shop dressed in a black sweater filled with holes, black jeans, and a dark overcoat. He glanced down at the suit that he wore before and approached the waste basket. In a rage, he threw the suit in the trash. He held onto the sunglasses but ripped them in two and tossed them into the trash. It wasn't a suit, it was a costume! A costume meant to impress people to make them think that he was oh so special. But the costume couldn't disguise the wretched pathetic soul underneath. It was another way of leaving the old life behind. He had to go forward with his new plan. There was nothing else for him now.

He sat on the bench feeling tears fill his eyes. The panicked feeling was gone replaced by a deep depression. Though he already took another pill before he entered the shop, he knew that one wouldn't be enough to kill the pain. He buried his head in his hands and just cried openly. He sat on the bench crying for a few minutes, but then the rational part of his mind ordered him to do some things. He had to write a letter and have it hand delivered and he had to see someone that he hadn't spoken to in over a year. Once he did that then he would close that rational part of his mind forever.

_January 11, 1984-_

_Omar listened quietly in the passenger seat of the car as Uncle Nassar rattled on and on about his new business venture, a parking garage. "It will be an exciting capital idea, my boy!" Omar laughed. One of the things that he loved about his uncle was how excited and enthusiastic about he was about everything, unlike his father these days who was always furious and losing his temper. _

"_Did you have fun at my place?" Nassar asked. _

"_Yes I did, Uncle," Omar replied. "Thanks." Omar was dead impressed with Nassar's ornate wealthy home. When he was little, Omar always made believe that he was a sultan or a caliph inside a palace giving orders whenever he visited. Seeing his uncle's home once again gave him those desires to be noticed, to be wealthy, to be somebody._

"_What I don't understand, Omar, is since you are going to college, why do you still insist upon living with your parents?" Nassar asked. _

_Omar shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. "It saves on the cost of living, Uncle." He said._

"_Still you have to ride the Tubes across the City and take the long way home," his uncle reminded him. _

"_It gives me plenty of time to study," Omar replied. What he didn't want to tell Nassar but more than likely what he already knew was that every moment that he spent at college or on the Tubes was one less moment that he spent at home. One less moment spent listening to his father rant and rave and drink himself into an alcoholic stupor. One less moment that he had to uphold his constantly crying mother who almost never spoke now except when she was in tears. One less moment that he felt like a hostage between his parents' disappointments and anger. _

"_What the devil is all of this?" Nassar said turning the car around to a large crowd. Police had barricaded the area near the train station and people were gathered about. Nassar rolled down the window and called someone over. "What happened?" he asked a man who was standing on the streets._

"_Someone jumped onto the railway lines," the man said._

"_Someone should have watched where they were going," Nassar joked grandly. The man and Omar laughed. _

"_Uncle Nassar," Omar pointed out. "My flat isn't too far from here. It will be hours before they clear out this mess. I can walk the rest of the way." _

"_Are you sure my boy?" Nassar asked. _

_Omar nodded as he opened the door. "You could back off over there and take the shortcut home," Omar reminded him. Nassar shrugged as Omar waved good-bye. _

"_DAVIYA," Ali screamed as though his wife were a servant girl. "Where is that woman?" Ali took another swig of vodka as Omar entered. Omar shook his head as he faced his father, his now white hair askew and his eyes shining with the alcohol. It was the time in prison after the Battle of Lewisham that had done this to him, Omar realized. He spent a week there, interrogated, imprisoned, and had watched his ideals fall apart one by one. Seeing people many of them friends or neighbors of theirs had destroyed the man, and seeing-well Omar could not allow himself to think on him any longer. He was part of the past. When Ali returned to his wife and son, he was a bitter shell, a shadow of the man that had once been. He was once someone great, Omar thought, now look at him. _

"_Your bitch of a mother left this morning," Ali complained. "As if you cared!" _

_Omar rolled his eyes. "Papa, I'm sure that she'll be back. She probably just went to the market or something." Someone has to, Omar thought bitterly. _

_He walked to his room and took out the book that he was reading for class, "The Ballad of Reading Gaol" by Oscar Wilde. He was trying to understand the stanza "Each man kills the thing that he loves/By all let this be heard/Some do it with a bitter look/Some with a flattering word/The coward does it with a kiss/The brave man with a sword." He wrote the lines down trying to make sense of them when a heavy knock sounded on the door. _

"_Answer the fucking door, Omar," Ali yelled. Omar sighed and answered as two police officers arrived._

"_Is this the residence of Daviya Hussein?" an officer asked pronouncing her first name like "Davy- a" _

_Omar couldn't resist being cheeky. "No, but this is the residence of 'Dah-vee-yah' Hussein. I'm her son, Omar."_

"_I'm Officer Malone and this is Turner," the older officer said. "We need you or your father to come and identify her."_

_Omar felt a cold chill whip through his entire body. "Identify her, what for?"_

"_Your mother was in an accident," he said. "She had fallen onto the railway lines." Omar felt stunned. "She's dead." _

_Omar was about to say more when a loud wail and the sound of broken glass appeared behind them. "NO!" Ali called. Omar turned around to face his father. "No, these men are lying! Omar it's not true! " Omar ran up to his father and embraced him. "She's not there! She just can't be!"The son continued to comfort his father as the police officers glanced at each other. Omar managed to get Ali settled enough to face the police officers. _

_Officer Malone nodded at Ali. "Will you come with us to identify her, Mr. Hussein?"_

_Ali turned away from the men and shook his head. He looked shriveled and had aged nearly 20 years in the short time. The scales fell from Omar's eyes. He saw his father not as the hero that he once saw, not as a great man who had fallen on hard times, but as a decrepit old man. He was almost a child that needed to be cared for and protected."I'll go," Omar volunteered as he lowered his father's body down and promised that he would return shortly. _

_Maybe it isn't true, Omar thought to himself. Someone may have stolen her purse and had fallen themselves, that's it! The young man thought as the police officers drove Omar to the morgue. He clung to that faint hope as he followed the officers inside the morgue. He glanced down at the body as they undid the sheet. _

_There was a woman bloody and practically ripped in two pieces. Despite the blood, Omar could almost make out the lavender dress that she wore the one that his mother used for special occasions. Omar almost had to laugh because she was fastidious about keeping it clean and here it was covered with her blood, fluid, and who knew what else. He could detect the faint smell of jasmine perfume which was her favorite. He remembered when he was a child, some would accidentally spill onto the ends of her hair and whenever she kissed Omar good night and her hair brushed against his, he would get a whiff of jasmine. Just to be sure, Omar lifted her right wrist and made out the small scar that had formed from a childhood accident. Omar nodded as tears filled his eyes but stubbornly wouldn't fall. "She wasn't pushed," he said. It wasn't a question. The officers looked somber and their expressions told them everything that he needed to know._

"_So this bloke said, "If you insist on getting tough with me, then I shall have you before a magistrate," Johnny said as drunk as the others reporting on an incident that he had with an upper class Englishman earlier that morning. He imitated the man in a perfect impression of his mincing cultured voice."After all there are men who prefer physical violence and I am not such a chap.' So what else could I do? I thrashed him!" The other guys laughed and slapped him on the back. Johnny liked being with his mates. He barely spent time at home anymore (Frankly, that was fine as far as he and his parents were concerned) and preferred being with the guys doing their parts to fight against a system that was beating them down at every turn._

_Moose arrived breathless and several hours later than he usually came. "Hey Moose, what kept ya?" Genghis asked. _

"_Didn't you hear," he said. "Someone jumped on the railway lines. All the trains stopped." He pointed at the TV. "There probably talking about it now!"_

"_Shorty, turn It up," Johnny said as he turned up the television._

_A male reporter appeared in front of the railway line. "Police have positively identified this afternoon's suicide as Daviya Hussein." Johnny felt a stab of pain hurt his insides as he saw a photo of the woman that he once knew appear on the screen. "Mrs. Hussein, 41, was the wife of once renowned journalist and All Lewisham Campaign Against Racism and Fascism member, Ali Hussein. Mr. Hussein was unavailable for comment but her brother-in-law Nassar had this to say."_

_The screen showed an overweight Asian man with a gray walrus mustache and a friendly look despite the sadness. "We are shocked and saddened by this loss. Daviya was a good woman and will be loved and missed by all who knew her."_

_The image returned to the reporter. "Besides her husband, Mrs. Hussein is also survived by her son. Funeral arrangements are pending."_

_Shorty turned down the TV as the gang members laughed. "One less Paki to deal with eh?" Genghis guffawed._

"_She probably thought the railway was part of the road and thought she could walk across it," Moose agreed. Shorty impersonated someone walking and falling down as the others laughed. _

_Johnny laughed slightly but said nothing. He couldn't forget that picture of Daviya, a woman who was once a second mum to him, nor could he forget about how Omar must be feeling right now._

_Omar methodically washed the last bit of dishes letting the hot water swirl around cleaning off bits of food that his relatives left. He forced himself to be calm, to lose himself in the tedium of daily work. It was how he got through the last few days. He turned off the water and walked into his father's room. The old man was lying in bed. His vacant expression seemed to indicate that he was medicated but he wasn't at least not from any medicinal means. He wouldn't speak as his son entered. Omar leaned towards his father and took his hand. "Papa, have you eaten yet?" Ali said nothing. "You must eat something." Ali absently shook his head and Omar returned to the kitchen to finish off the dishes. _

_His father's break down in front of the police wasn't the only one. It fell to Omar to ring his relatives, or rather the ones that he knew and Nassar offered to contact the ones that he didn't. Omar had to make the funeral arrangements when his father could not and at the funeral when Ali could not lead the traditional mourning prayer , upheld by his son and paralyzed with grief, it was Omar who led the men in the call. In a way Omar was grateful that his father was acting this way, he freed the emotions that Omar would not allow himself to feel._

_Omar sighed. He had been granted temporary leave from the college, but what would happen to his father if he returned? He couldn't bear it if he got into an accident while he was gone or worse. Omar knew that it had taken a lot of effort to get him back in. After the Battle of Lewisham, he had taken his exams but was so overcome with worry about his father who was still in prison that he ran from the exam room and threw up making an automatic fail. If he passed on taking them again it would count as another failure and it almost wouldn't be worth going back. He sighed suddenly feeling exhausted. Really, what choice do I have, he thought. The phone rang interrupting his thoughts. _

_Omar reached over to answer it thinking that it was probably another relative or friend of one of their relatives expressing their apologies about his mother's death. "Hello?" he said. There was no answer. "Hello, who is this?"_

_From the nearby phone booth, Johnny could hear Omar's sweet quiet voice ask who it was. He sounded a little more tired, more anxious than Johnny remembered but of course he wasn't surprised. "Hello?" Omar repeated but Johnny couldn't say anything._

_He silently hung up the phone and peered through the upstairs window where he could make out Omar standing over his family's kitchen sink. What could Johnny say: Hi, remember me the guy who beat up your dad and broke your heart? Sorry to hear about your mum's passing. Want to get fucked sometime? _

_Johnny held onto the phone for a minute as he heard Omar's voice once again asking who it was. Was that desperation maybe tears in his voice? How badly did Johnny want to reach through the phone and take his former lover in the arms and tell him everything would be alright? But he couldn't and he didn't. Johnny just hung up the phone. _

_Even though he hung up, Johnny still lingered by the booth catching Omar's face. He held the phone with an obviously confused expression on his face, then turned around as though he heard something behind him. The very look of him still made Johnny's heart skip after all this time, but he knew that it could never be now. The deed was done so he turned on his heels and hid into the crowd. _

_Omar stared at the phone as the person hung up. Who the hell was that? Someone to offer condolences? A wrong number? An obscene caller? Omar hoped that maybe it was Johnny who had somehow heard about his mother's death, but Omar knew that it couldn't be. He and Johnny lived separate lives now. They never saw each other or contacted each other. Slowly, that ache of losing his first love dulled and Omar finally got to the point where picturing Johnny in his head didn't quite hurt so much. He wasn't even sure that his old friend still lived in London. So, it couldn't be him, not at all._

_Just then he heard a loud crash from his father's room. Omar placed the phone back on the hook and ran to his father's side. Ali had fallen from his bed onto the ground. A whiskey bottle lay next to him in pieces fallen obviously from an attempt to reach for it. Ali sat on the ground his legs spread out and he bent down his hands touching the glass. "They murdered her," he mumbled. "It wasn't suicide, she was murdered! They all murdered her! They will murder us all in the end! I murdered her, I murdered her and I murdered my son! I deserve to be with them!"_

_Omar wrapped his arms around his father. "Papa, Papa, it will be alright," he assured him. "I'm right here. Look at me, look at me!" Ali glanced at Omar as if seeing him for the first time. He then wept in his son's arms. "Omar, I am sorry," he sobbed. "I am so sorry!" Omar gently lifted his father up and returned him to the bed. He then entered the kitchen to pick up a broom and dustpan to clean up the shards of glass. When that was finished, he entered the lavatory and grabbed some iodine and bandages. He returned to his father's bedroom and gently rubbed the iodine onto his bleeding hands. Ali winced with the pain as his son worked. _

_Omar completed bandaging his father's hand. "Papa, you need someone to look after you. I'm not going back to college. I want to stay here and help you."He squeezed his father's hand tighter and held him by the shoulder. "I will take care of you as well as you took care of me all of those years."_

_Ali sobbed once more holding onto his son for dear life. Omar embraced his father tightly allowing himself to cry softly as his father wept loudly. I will look after him, Omar vowed to himself, I will be the strong one. You don't have to worry, Mama, I will take good care of him. _

_Of course it wasn't until awhile later that Omar realized how draining always being the strong one can be. _

Author's Note: This is the last of the flashbacks! The next chapter, the penultimate chapter, will be entirely set in the modern storyline. However, the final chapter will be entirely a flash forward! So, stay tuned and enjoy yourself and thanks again for reading and reviewing. I am glad to see this story get such a positive reaction from the readers! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Clock of the Heart

Nassar took Bilque's hand as the two sped through the busy waiting room, their daughters close behind. Nassar almost had to laugh at the irony that it took the critical injury of their missing daughter to make them hold hands as though they were young lovers. They approached the emergency room that the receptionist said Tania was in. Nassar ran up to the doctor. Her name tag read "Dr. Singh." "Excuse me, my daughter Tania Hussein, how is she?" he asked.

Dr. Singh waved her hands to calm the older man down. "Mr. Hussein, your daughter is in critical, but stable condition," she replied. "She sustained a concussion."" Bilques began to cry as Nassar held her feeling choked up as well. "However, her chance of survival is great, actually greater than it would have been if she hadn't had help beforehand."

"What do you mean?" Nassar asked.

"Well your friend sustained mouth to mouth resuscitation on her," Dr. Singh replied. "It's possible that without it, we would never have gotten to her in time."

"My friend?" Nassar questioned.

"Yes Miss Field," the doctor pointed behind them at the brunette woman who kept her distance from the family. "She told us that she was a friend of the family."

Nassar and Bilques turned around to face the woman. "Rachel, you?" he asked as he came closer. Dr. Singh returned to treating the young woman in her care.

Rachel nodded fighting tears. "Yes, well I was at the launderette when it blew and I just knew that I couldn't-well I almost destroyed your family so it seemed only right that I bring part of it back."

"Thank you," Nassar said. He thought for a minute there. "Why did you want to see me and what did it have to do with Salim?"

Bilques looked up. "Is it involved with Salim's arrest?"

Nassar looked quizzically at his wife. "Salim was arrested? When?"

"This afternoon," his wife replied. "At their house right after their son was born."

Rachel nodded. "By my brother, Toby. He's a detective sergeant in Drug Enforcement. I think that he was having an affair with Cherry. That's what I came to tell you. I thought maybe he was going to do something to you through Salim." She mumbled the last part. "Out o f loyalty to me."

Bilques shook her head. "No, Cherry told me. She made a deal with the police for immunity and a lighter sentence so she gave them information about Salim's drug career."

Nassar nodded. "That explains his behavior earlier. He probably thought it was me or Omar."

"And he arrested him," Rachel said. Bilques nodded. "That's Toby Field for you, efficient at his job and to hell with anyone else." As if conjuring up his image she saw an emergency crew carry a man on a gurney down the hallway. "Toby!" she yelled. She turned from the couple. "He's my brother and I have to go!"

"Salim shot him," Bilques explained to her husband. She held up a finger as if to say 'wait a minute' then followed Rachel. "Rachel," she called. The Englishwoman turned around to face her former lover's wife. "For my daughter's sake, thank you."

Rachel smiled. "You're welcome." She then followed the emergency crew to find out about her brother's status.

Lucy, the receptionist, glanced up as two men and a small girl approached the front desk. For an insane moment, she thought that they were a couple with their daughter. They were out of breath and obviously worried. "I'm looking for Tania Hussein," the dark haired man said at the same time as the blond man said. "Do you have an Omar Hussein here?"

Lucy held up her hand. "Wait a minute, one at a time!" Both men gave the names of the patients once again. She consulted her records. "_Tania_ Hussein is upstairs room 216 with many of them from that explosion." She smiled at the publicity that had been gathering. "It's already getting a lot of press. The reporters are even calling it 'The Second Battle of Lewisham.'"

"Imagine that," the blond man said sarcastically. The dark haired man and little girl were about to head for the elevator with the blond man following them, when Lucy called them back. "I don't have a listing for an _Omar_ Hussein, though."

The two men exchanged glances. "Don't mean that he ain't there," the blond man said with desperation.

Johnny, Max, and Frida rode the elevator, worried and tense about their loved ones. Frida was sniffling while Max whispered to his daughter telling her not to worry and that Tania will be alright. "Looks like we're looking for the same people," Johnny said.

Max nodded and stuck out his hand. "Max. This is my daughter, Frida."

"Johnny," Johnny replied as he shook Max's hand and waved at Frida. "So you're Tania's man yeah?" He recognized him from when Tania met him in the alley. He was the tall dark haired man behind her. Max nodded as he lifted his daughter up and carried her patting her on the back.

"I love her," Max replied. "And you? Are you a friend of Omar's?"

"More than that," Johnny said.

"Are you in love with Uncle Omar?" Frida asked sniffling through her tears as her father comforted her.

Johnny was surprised at the girl's honesty but he nodded. "Yeah, I'm in love with your Uncle Omar."

The elevator opened and the two ran to the waiting room with Max holding Frida.

Max and Johnny ran past a familiar launderette customer who though he had a bandage on his forehead approached the pretty blond woman who shook her head at him, her hands on her hips. "Do you believe me now, Angela?" Gerard asked weakly.

Angela approached her boyfriend with tears in her eyes. "Shut it, you," she said as she embraced and kissed her boyfriend. "Just shut it!"

The two young men and small girl approached Tania's ran up to Nassar and Bilques and asked. "How is Tania?"

Nassar glanced at Max up and down. "And who might you be and why are you concerned with my daughter?"

Max put Frida down and smiled nervously managing to let out a small laugh. "I would have preferred a better setting, but my name is Max Ruben and, I'm in love with your daughter."

Nassar's face reddened and he stood up slowly as though Max were some unidentified insect that he wanted to squash." You are in love with my daughter."

Max nodded and stammered. "Yes, sir, I have known Tania nearly a year in Paris. "

"In Paris," Nassar repeated. "That's where she's been."

Max blushed and stammered. "Yes sir. I'm an artist and well Tania is a wonderful woman and though we haven't made any definite plans, I sort of hope to marry her one day."

"You hope to marry my daughter," Nassar said icily.

"One day," Max said. _If I live through tonight_, he thought. He caught his breath. "Sir, I find Tania to be a smart, courageous, strong beautiful woman. My daughter-this is my daughter, Frida- adores her as do I. I do not wish for her to be anymore than she is now, but we are in love. She has a wonderful career working for a dear friend of mine. I see so much in her and more. I just hope that you do as well."

Nassar didn't say anything but Dr. Singh arrived. "Your daughter is awake now. She sustained multiple fractures to her nervous system and there is a chance that she will be paralyzed from the waist down for life." There was silence from the entire family.

"May we see her?" Nassar asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, but she is tired and will need rest so don't stay too long."

Nassar took his wife by the hand and pointed at his daughters. "Come on," he said. He then turned to Max and Frida. "Would you like to come see her?"

Max smiled with tears forming in his eyes. "Thank you, sir." He shook Nassar's hand as he entered the room with Frida following close behind. Nassar lingered by the door for a minute.

Johnny smiled and called for Max. "Good luck, man," he said. Max smiled and returned to his girlfriend's room. Before then, the Englishman had been scanning the waiting room hoping for any sign that maybe beyond all hope that Omar was there. He approached Gigi and Del who were talking to their families. "You two you're Omar's employees yeah?" he asked. They nodded. "How are you?"

"Other than the fact that I have an entire kettle drum orchestra in my head, I'll be fine," Del said.

"Little ringing in my ears," Gigi replied. "But the doctor said that I'll be right soon enough. Tania's alright, isn't she?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah they were saying that she's paralyzed but at least she's alive." The younger kids nodded. "Either of you seen Omar?"

Gigi and Del glanced at each other and shook their heads. "No, he weren't with us." Gigi replied. Del confirmed it.

"Johnny," Nassar said slowly. Johnny turned around to see the older man approach him. "Omar arrived with Zaki, my brother, and I. He wasn't at the launderette but we haven't seen him since."

Johnny gasped. Since the explosion, he realized how much that he loved that infuriating ambitious Pakistani. Up until this moment, he would have admitted that he liked him, maybe even loved him. Knowing that Omar hadn't died but was missing made Johnny realize that Omar meant more to him than anyone else in the world. He also was aware that what had really been holding back between himself and Omar wasn't Omar's family, wasn't Johnny's old gang, wasn't racism, or homophobia. It was their own stubborn pride! If Omar slipped out of Johnny's life now, he would always know that it was his own fault! More than anything Johnny knew that he had to find Omar and confess everything to him!

"I just hope to God that he's at home," Johnny said. "Glad about Tania though." He then turned around and left the waiting room.

The front door to Omar's flat was locked. It wasn't the hardest obstacle for someone like Johnny who had spent much of his youth picking various locks for stealing and unscrewing. He motioned his hand at the top of the door for the spare key. When he found it, he unlocked the door. He sighed with delight as the door opened. "That was easy," he thought as he entered. His slight victory ended with a bottle of vodka thrown at his direction. Johnny ducked as the bottle smashed onto the wall behind him.

Ali approached the young man hitting at him in a rage. "You bastard where is my son?" he screamed. "Where is he?"

Johnny held onto the older man's arms to steady them and then dropped them. "I don't know," he said. "I came back here to find him! He wasn't at the hospital!"

"I've been seeing the news," Ali said. His whole body was shaking and his voice barely controlling any of his emotions. "He just can't be-Johnny, if he's-if something happened to him-"

Johnny held his lover's father by the shoulder. "He ain't hurt, I'm sure of it! I saw his car outside. I'm going to go look for him. Is it working?"

Ali nodded. "As far as I know, the mechanics returned it this morning before Omar left but-"Johnny looked through an ashtray that had a set of keys. "Johnny, those are my flat keys." Johnny shook his head and glanced inside drawer after drawer looking for Omar's car keys. He couldn't find them.

"Doesn't he keep car keys near the door like a bloody normal person?" Johnny swore tearing through the chest of drawers and near the television.

"No, he doesn't," Ali said embarrassed. "Johnny, he-I don't know where his car keys are." Johnny glanced at the older man who looked like he was confessing to a shameful secret. "Omar won't tell me where he puts his car keys. He hides them from me. He's afraid that I will drive off and get arrested or get hurt-so he hides them to keep me from driving."

Johnny buried his head in his hands frustrated. "Brilliant," he said. "Any idea where he might have them?"

Ali shook his head. "I don't know. He just says that it would be somewhere that I won't look, somewhere that I won't want to look."

"Well that cleared up nothing," Johnny muttered. He glanced over at Ali's liquor cabinet. _No, that would be the first place he'll look_, Johnny thought. If they were in Omar's trouser pockets or in his wallet then Johnny would be sunk. However, they may still be here. He glanced over at the book case. He read off the titles: several copies of the _Qur'an, The Communist Manifesto, The Commonwealth of Nations_, biographies of the Bhutto family and Gandhi, some books by Oscar Wilde and _Erotic Short Stories by Gay Authors_ (Johnny figured that they were Omar's), among others. He flipped through the gay author's anthology and some of the Oscar Wilde books but found nothing. He fingered the other titles until a small older paperback got his attention, the type that someone would find in a rummage shop. "Somewhere that you wouldn't want to look," Johnny mumbled as he read the title: _My Name is Bill W_. _Cute Omar_, he thought, _very clever_. He opened the front cover and his thought was justified because taped to the inside cover were a pair of keys. He pulled them out and returned the book to the shelf. "Found them," Johnny said and pocketed the keys. "Now, I'm off."

"Johnny, Omar is my son," Ali began.

Johnny sighed frustrated. "I don't want to hear this! I know you don't like me, but I'm mad about your son and I intend to go looking for him and if you don't like it, well that's just tough ain't it?"

"No, that's not what I was going to say," Ali said. "Omar is my son and I am coming with you."

Omar used his strength to open the rusted gate of the Muslim cemetery, which admittedly wasn't a lot of strength. He heaved and pushed it open and was completely out of breath by the time that he opened the grave. "Excuse me," a brusque voice said. Omar looked to see a gray bearded caretaker dressed in traditional wardrobe. "We are closing in 15 minutes."

Omar sighed. His feet felt like blocks. It was the first time in several hours that he admitted any feeling into his body. The long walk was exhausting, but he used it to try to block his mind from everything. However, the more he tried the more the unpleasant thoughts entered. "Please," he said wearily. "I have been walking a long way. I just want to visit my mother for a few minutes."

Hassan, the caretaker sighed and allowed Omar to enter. He was normally a stickler for regulations but the young man was clearly fatigued. He looked like he would fall over any minute. Hassan waved his hand for him to enter. The young man stepped over the graves that were all similar in appearance, all small and barely marked and facing towards Mecca. _She never_ _got to see Mecca,_ Omar thought, _she always wanted to_. He walked past the graves taking care not to step on them or walk on top of them. He moved towards the sites until he found the one that memory told him that his mother lain.

Omar sat next to his mother's grave. He sunk down as his knees buckled from the exhaustion of the long walk and the tension that had built. He bowed to the grave and then lay prostrate on the ground. Tears flowed from his eyes and down onto the cold marker. Omar thought of the beautiful woman that was once his mother, who held his hand when he stumbled, kissed him good night, gave him a gentle reprimand, and in her own way showed love and encouragement to her son. He kissed the grave. He wanted to say any of the traditional prayers but his mind couldn't recall any. Instead he could only tell his mother what he felt.

"I'm sorry, Mama," he cried. "I tried, I really did. Please forgive me for what I must do. But, I will see you soon." He kissed her once more. "Good-bye."

Johnny pounded on the door to Nassar's house and rang the door bell. He wasn't sure that anyone would be home but figured that it would be worth a shot. Bilques answered the door to a very relieved Johnny. "Johnny," she said. "Ali?" she said with surprise as though her brother-in-law were a dragon or some other mythological creature that no one had ever seen before. It had probably been awhile since she had seen her brother-in-law or at least seen him dressed in anything other than his pajamas, Johnny reasoned.

"How is Tania?" Ali asked. Johnny gave him some information but he preferred to be polite.

Bilques smiled. "As well as can be expected. Nassar and that Max are with her now. Zaki brought me, the girls, and Frida home to give them some time together." She waved at the inside room where Raina and Dasha were playing a game with Frida. "Would you like to come in?"

They glanced at each other and shook their heads. "No, thank you mum," Johnny replied. "I guess Omar hadn't been by has he?"

Bilques shook her head and reached for an object that was behind the door. "No, he did not, but Johnny this is for you." She handed him a manila envelope. "It was hand delivered to this address."

Johnny opened the envelope and read in surprise. "What is it Johnny?" Ali asked after Johnny read for a few minutes.

The young man glanced at the older man. He wanted to spare him pain, but he knew that if he was coming then he had to know. "It's the deed to the launderette. Omar signed it over to me." Ali shook uncontrollably as Johnny led him to the car and thanked Bilques. They slammed the car door as Johnny revved the engine. What he didn't want to tell Ali was about the small letter that came with the deed. It was written in Omar' hand:

_Johnny,_

_I'm taking the hint. Please take care of my father. You will do a better job than I ever could. I'm sorry, but I have to speak to someone that I haven't seen in awhile and then I will be gone. I'm sorry. I know this is the coward and the failure's way out. I suppose it runs in the family. I guess it's a pity that we ever met in the first place. I wish things could be different. _

_Love,_

_Omar_

Johnny thought for a moment. Who was Omar going to speak with? Then, a thought struck him. "Sir, where is your wife buried?"

"A Muslim cemetery," Ali replied. "It's on the other side of town. Why?"

"I think that's where Omar is," Johnny answered as he started the car.

Johnny drove the car to the Muslim cemetery concentrating on the road and his lover. He didn't want to speak as though it would take up too much energy, energy that he needed to find Omar. Ali had his eyes closed as and his hands folded. Occasionally, he motioned his hands skyward and muttered a prayer. Johnny couldn't understand what the words meant but figured that they meant something to the effect of: _Please let us find my son. Let him be alive. Yeah, that goes_ _double from me,_ Johnny thought. Ali opened his eyes and pointed. "It's over there." Johnny pulled over and the two exited the vehicle.

Johnny tried to open the gate but it was locked. Frustrated, he pounded on the gate as it jangled. Ali held onto his shoulder. "Johnny," he hissed. A shadow approached the two men.

"We're closed," Hassan replied. He gave the two men a withering look especially Johnny.

Johnny tensed. He recognized the look, the look that said _you don't belong here_. Ali stayed Johnny's hand. This was his world and he knew how to enter doors that Johnny did not. "Excuse me, but we are looking for a young man in his early 20's," Ali asked. "We think he came by here."

Hassan glanced back and forth at the intruders no friendlier to his fellow follower of Allah than an outsider."If he's buried here, then you missed your chance," Hassan wryly replied. "If he's alive, what makes you think that he came by here?"

"The young man is my son," Ali replied. "My wife is buried here. Her name is Daviya Hussein. Please, I need to know whether he came by."

Hassan sighed. "We only had one visitor here tonight. 15 minutes before we closed."

Johnny approached to the man. "Did he do anything? Say anything?"

Hassan glared. "It is not my place to eavesdrop on the private conversations between the living and the dead!"

Johnny clenched his fist ready to punch the man. He wanted to knock his block off, but he knew that wouldn't help Omar. He reached into his pocket and took out the 60.00 that he raised from selling the watch. Hassan picked it up and pocketed the money. _There went my going-away fund_, Johnny thought dryly, realizing how little that mattered now. "Yes, he bowed to the grave and assumed the traditional mourning position, as dictated by Mohammad," Hassan replied.

"Huh?" Johnny was confused.

"Prostrate face down on the ground," Ali answered. "Younger people do it to show respect to deceased older family members."

Hassan nodded. "He didn't say much. He just said 'I'm sorry, I tried. Forgive me, but I shall see you soon.'"

Ali swooned. In those few seconds, he completely paled and felt weightless. "Johnny," he said weakly.

Johnny upheld his friend's father. "Come now, Ali. We'll find him, I promise you. Then, I'll give him the beating of his life for scaring you like this!"

Omar approached the train stop and sank down onto the bench and waited. There wasn't much else that he could do. _This is how it looked to her_, he thought_. It doesn't look as different as I had always imagined that it would._ Omar removed the pill bottle from his pocket. How many had he already taken two, three? How many would it take? When would the train get here? What would it feel like?

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. People often fight death and now here he was welcoming it. Ironically, it was the calmest that he felt in a long time. Omar sat on the bench as early morning light approached and patiently waited certain that soon all his troubles would be over.

Since the return from the cemetery, neither Ali nor Johnny spoke for a long time. What neither wanted to give voice to was the fear that Omar was contemplating suicide. They or at least Johnny clung to the faint desperate hope that maybe Omar was just running away. That hope ended as soon as they left the cemetery.

Johnny glanced towards the old man as he stopped at a red light. He looked ill, pale, and his hands were shaking. "Need a drink, sir?" he asked.

Ali sighed. "I want one, dear God, how I want one," he said. "But it won't help my son, not now." Johnny nodded as the light turned green.

"Johnny," Ali said weakly. "Can you forgive an old fool?"

Johnny smiled. "You're not old, Mr. Ali."

Ali laughed bitterly. "But I am a fool," he said. Johnny smiled ironically. Ali continued. "You see it did not bother me that Omar is a homosexual, well perhaps it did. But, what bothered me was that he was with you," he confessed. "You see I had forgotten your years of friendship, forgotten how loyal you were to each other when you were little. All I saw was that Fascist who marched against our people. It hurt me and I didn't want to see Omar get hurt by you." Johnny was about to say more but Ali held up his hand. "Let me finish. That changed tonight, actually changed in small ways for a long time, but I finally saw the truth tonight. You are fond of my boy and anyone who would do for him as much as you have deserves my apology. When I am wrong, I admit that I am wrong and I can only hope that you can forgive me?"

Johnny shook his head. "I'm just sorry that I ever gave you a reason not to like me, sir."

Ali took a deep breath and continued. "I want you to know, that despite your races, or society's perception on the matter ff you do find my son and wish to pursue your relationship further. Then, you have my blessing."

Johnny slowed the car down and glanced at the older man. "Sir, _when_ we find Omar and if he is interested, then I will be honored to have it." He glanced at the landscape near the train stop. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lone figure seated. _Wait a mo_, he thought, _could it be_? He turned the car around and approached the train stop.

He pulled the car over and leaped out of the front. "Why are we stopping here?" Ali asked.

"Stay here, sir," Johnny said to his friend's father. Ali was about to leave when Johnny lowered him back down. "Stay here," he said firmly.

He climbed the steps to the train stop and saw the same lone figure seated on the bench. Johnny approached him warily as though he were a frightened deer that would run off in the presence of a hunter. Omar glanced upward at the intrusion. At least Johnny thought it was Omar. He looked so different from the last time that Johnny saw him. He was dressed in old dark clothing, so different from the pressed and fastidious wardrobe that his lover was so fond of wearing. His dark face so often hopeful and healthy now was jaundiced in its skinniness; it seemed to implode with all of the worries. The most frightening thing for Johnny was Omar's eyes, so bright and full of life were now dull with a resignation that not only accepted but welcomed death. It was as though in the almost 24 hours since Johnny had seen him, the Omar that he knew and loved was replaced by a stranger.

Omar didn't look surprised to see him. "I see you got my note," he said.

It shocked Johnny to see how polite Omar was acting as though it were a typical day at work. He reached over and grabbed Omar by the arm. The Pakistani resisted and pushed away. "We have been looking all night for you," he said. "Your father and I have been worried sick!"

"You shouldn't have bothered," Omar replied. He laughed bitterly, his voice slurred. "Y'know it's funny. I can't even do this right. I swallowed enough of these but apparently not enough to finish the job," He held up the pill bottle and Johnny could see that it was half-empty. "I'm waiting for a train that it turns out was late. Hers was right on time."

"Come on," Johnny said. "I'm taking you home!" He tried to drag him, but once again Omar resisted.

"No," Omar said. "Back to what? A business that has fallen apart? A family that hates me? How about a world that falls apart every time we try to do anything? What about to someone that I'm not allowed to be with?"

"Look," Johnny said. "The launderette can be repaired. The people who have been injured will heal. Genghis has been arrested! Your family doesn't hate you, in fact, they are worried about you and so am I! There ain't anything that can't be fixed!"

Omar sighed wearily. "That's just it, Johnny. I'm tired of fixing it. I'm tired of fixing what's broken only to have it fall apart in greater pieces. I'm tired of always trying, but things never really changing. I'm tired of somehow thinking that I'm so much better than everyone that I'm somebody special. I'm just tired of it all." Suddenly, a sound could be heard: the last sound that Johnny wanted to hear. The honk of the train and the roar of its wheels from a distance. Omar smiled. "Finally," he stood up and left the bench. Johnny followed close behind. Omar spoke in a tone that frightened Johnny at how eerie it was. "You know, I used to wonder what it looked like to her. Did I cross her mind before she did it? Did she ever think of me at all? Did I say something to her to make her not want to walk away from this? Then, I realized that even if she did love me I wasn't enough. I wasn't enough for her." The train approached closer as Omar headed closer to the edge. "I wasn't enough to make her walk away. I wasn't enough to make him quit drinking. I'm not enough to hold anything together. I'm not enough to make you stay. I'm not enough for anything."

Johnny held onto his lover as the train approached closer. Johnny's voice choked with emotion. "Come on, Omar. You can walk away, you're strong enough. You can't do this. I-I love you."

Omar barely acknowledged Johnny's love confession as the train could be seen right on the horizon and headed straight for them. "I know," Omar sighed. "But not enough." He stepped one foot off the edge just as Johnny reached for him. The train careened by and Johnny grabbed Omar and tackled him to the ground.

Omar struggled but Johnny forced him down keeping his body on top of him so that he didn't move. "Now look!" He yelled. "You are strong enough to walk away! You are and you are going to! And when you're not, I'm going to carry you away! But, I am not going to lose you! Do you hear me?"

Omar sobbed in Johnny's arms. "Stay with me, Johnny," he begged. "Don't leave me."

Johnny held his lover tightly. "I wasn't planning on going nowhere, man. I'm staying right here."

"I love you too," Omar said his face buried in his lover's arms and his voice muffled from exhaustion and Johnny's protective body. "I need you."

"We need each other, Omar," Johnny replied. He then lifted Omar's chin and the two kissed a warm loving kiss that healed all wounds.

The two sat for a few minutes locked in their embrace. "Are you ready now?" Johnny asked.

Omar nodded. "Yes, I want to go home. I don't want to kill myself anymore." Johnny helped Omar to stand as a relieved voice said, "Thank God."

Omar looked up and saw his father leaning against the railing. If Omar had any lingering suicidal thoughts, they were gone the second that he saw his shattered father and realized that he would have seen it happen. His wife's death almost destroyed him. Omar's death would have sent him to a place that he would never recover from. "Papa?" Omar said warily approaching his father.

"Omar," Ali said grabbing his son by the shoulders. He shook his son hard. "Omar, if you ever do that to me again, I will disown you! Do you hear me I will-I-"He couldn't finish his threat his voice was so choked with tears. He embraced his son holding him tightly.

"I'm sorry, Papa," Omar said sounding younger than he was. "I'm so sorry!"

Ali held onto his son and kissed his forehead. "Now, now," he said. "Everything will be fine. Things will be different from now on." Omar nodded as his father lifted his face and wiped his tears with his thumbs. "We'd better get you looked after then get you home, because the three of us need to have a talk."

Omar glanced confused between his father and his boyfriend. "The three-?"

Ali nodded. "Yes, of course, you, me-"He grinned at Johnny "-and my son-in-law."

Omar smiled crying this time happy tears. He approached Johnny. "Yeah?" Johnny asked. He didn't have to say more.

"Yeah," Omar agreed and leapt into Johnny's arms giving him a long kiss on the mouth. Then taking his father's hand and leaning against Johnny's shoulder for support, Omar joined his father and lover in climbing down the stairs and heading for home.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: However Far Away, Whatever Words I Say

Life doesn't repair itself over night. It took many days, weeks, and months before things could become even half-way normal for the launderette, Tania, or Omar.

There were inquests to be arranged, questions to be answered, and much repair work to be done before the launderette was back up and running. Omar, Johnny, and others worked like mad but ultimately it had its re-opening in January, 1986! It re-opened to instant success (and part curiosity from news-seekers who had heard about the tragedy) but remained a success in that area of London.

Tania spent many times in denial and tears before she accepted her paralysis, but began to take her physical therapy seriously. She also had the assistance and support of her family, Max, and Frida, which became closer through helping her. Tania, Max, and Frida were eventually able to return to Paris where Tania enrolled in Sorbonne University, with a Masters in French and English Literature, ultimately becoming a lecturer, professor, and author in Feminist Literature and Gender Studies. The same year that she graduated was also the year that she married Max and officially adopted Frida. Max continued to paint, having many gallery showings and exhibits. Frida evolved into a bright sassy, worldly young lady with her parents' talent for art and outspokenness. Though they made Paris their home, they continued to keep in touch with and write to Tania's family in London, even visiting them once a year.

While Nassar initially disapproved of the match, he came around because of Max's devotion to Tania. Also, because Raina had an arranged marriage with a man who had emigrated from Pakistan with his family. Since, one of his daughters had the son-in-law that he hoped for; Nassar was able to let up on Tania as well as Dasha, who showed an interest in medicine and is considering becoming a doctor. Also, Nassar had issues of his own to attend to. Shortly after Tania's hospitalization, he and Rachel resumed their affair. Even though she and Bilques continued to take swipes at each other in public, Bilques made no more attempts on the other woman's life by cursing or otherwise. It was said though never stated that the two in private rather enjoyed their rivalry and making life a merry Hell for Nassar!

There were also trials, witnesses, and some pretty dark threats. Genghis was sentenced to 10 years for the explosion, but had it commuted to 7 with option of parole. No parents would charge him formally for the rapes and though Johnny was willing to go forward with it, Omar stayed him. Johnny relented believing that Omar had suffered enough at his hand. Genghis had an advantageous romance with a solicitor's daughter while in prison and studied politics and law during his internment. He expressed interest in promoting Webster's values any way and at all costs.

Salim too received a lighter sentence than was hoped for. He was originally sentenced to 12 years with possible deportment. However, his very clever solicitors managed to have most of the evidence that Cherry collected thrown out in court, because of revenge and a potential extramarital affair with the injured but highly commended Sgt. Field. Salim's sentence was commuted to 6 years with possibility of parole. He also waived custodial rights of his son. There were rumors that he made some very dangerous alliances in prison, but those were just rumors right?

Cherry had fled the country shortly before Salim's trial (another reason that the solicitors cited), taking with her the drug money but leaving her son behind. An outstanding warrant was issued should she ever return to the United Kingdom, which doesn't seem likely. As for their son, there were many debates, arguments, quarrels but ultimately Johnny and Omar adopted the boy and named him Ali.

Johnny only worked at the launderette long enough to get it up and running again. He took Zaki's brother's offer to build the restaurant and was commissioned by another businessperson, and another. It started slowly but he managed to create a mechanical contracting and building business with Moose (who had abandoned the gang after realizing that Genghis had gone too far). Their old gang separated, some remained skinheads and others had decided to go their own way. It was a success and as Nassar predicted brought new light to the Lewisham area.

After his rescue, Omar spent a long time recovering. Mostly his wounds were psychological and sometimes minds take a longer time to heal than bodies. He spent a great deal of time in rehab and fighting the twin demons of countering addiction and recurring depressive thoughts. Through Johnny and Ali's devotion, and his own will he recovered enough to foresee the repair work on the launderette, and care for Little Ali. He finally opened the second branch, formerly Zaki's place, opened later in 1987, and eventually fell under Gigi's direct management, and he contemplated a third by late 1989, which would be managed by Del. Though Johnny and Omar could not legally marry, they moved in together during Omar's recovery and ultimately moved into a bigger place with Ali and Little Ali becoming a loving and loyal couple. While there were arguments against the two making their union public, Omar won the reluctant approval of his family by reminding them that either they accept Johnny or they lose Omar. Eventually, they conceded. Omar called it a "peace treaty" and a "victory." Johnny called it a "stalemate" and "temporary cease fire." Either way it worked.

Ali was a loving and devoted grandfather to his namesake. He managed to curtail his drinking throughout Omar's recovery, but he never fully quit until his health became an issue. When Little Ali was four years old, Ali was diagnosed with diabetes and hypertension. The serious threats to his health ended his drinking days forever. However, his health continued to diminish and he passed away in 1990 with his son, son-in-law, and grandson by his side.

It was at his memorial service a month after Ali's death that we resume our story. While he had a traditional somber funeral (humorous because he was never overtly religious even to the end) , Nassar, Johnny, and Omar decided to do something greater for him. They organized a memorial service in Ali's honor with guests including family, friends, and colleagues from his days in Pakistan and working in the ALCARAF. Many were present and the family received many condolence letters from the likes of Benazir Bhutto ("a dedicated feisty woman who will take over the world one day", Ali had once predicted), Latika Milani, the former mayor of Lewisham, and others.

The family and friends had gathered in Nassar's sitting room. They talked and laughed amongst themselves sharing stories with one another. Nassar held up his hands for silence. "I would like to say a few words on behalf of my brother," he began. "Just a few."

"Uncle Nassar with you it's never just a few," Omar quipped. The crowd laughed, the loudest laughs coming from Rachel and Tania.

"I suppose that I deserve that," Nassar wryly said. "My brother Ali loved many things. A good bottle of vodka for example. A second bottle of vodka, a third bottle of vodka, and somehow I don't know how he managed it but he skipped the fourth bottle and went right to the fifth," he waited until the laughter and groans at the pun died down. "But he was a man who believed whole-heartedly in his ideals such as true justice and fairness for those that he encountered. He wasn't always an easy man to understand and less of an easy man to like, but when you knew him you had a loyal companion for life. He also above all loved his son, Omar, who helped arrange this memorial. Omar if you will stand." Omar stood as the family applauded none louder than Johnny and Little Ali. He blushed and then seated. "Now let's drink a toast to my brother's memory. To Ali Hussein."

"To Ali Hussein." They said as they clinked glasses and drank.

Omar approached the displays that he and Johnny created with Max's help. Many of them were enlarged photos, articles, and collages detailing his father's career. Omar lightly touched one as though he could just imagine his father smiling down at him. He ran his fingers along the hand in the portrait almost feeling the texture of his father's leathered skin. He refused to let himself cry, he had done that many times since he died. Omar was not about to do it now. He glanced over at Max, standing behind Tania's wheelchair and Frida by her side. "What do you think?" Omar asked Tania.

"It's incredible," Tania agreed. Omar leaned down and she hugged him.

" Uncle Omar, this is like so awesome, whatever," Frida said turning her dyed jet black hair to one of the displays. She touched one and Omar could see black fingernail polish on her nails.

"Is that a good thing?" Omar asked.

Tania and Max laughed. "As good a compliment as you will get out of her," Tania quipped. Tania then wheeled to another display with Max and Frida following close behind.

Omar walked over and tapped Johnny from behind. He carried Little Ali on his shoulders, but then lowered him down to get a closer look at one of the photographs."Was that really Daadaa?" Little Ali asked seeing a photo of his grandfather at a young age in front of a protest meeting in Pakistan. "He was a real hero wasn't he, Papa?" He asked Omar.

"Yes, he was," Omar said holding his adopted son by the shoulders. "He always was," he whispered softly.

Little Ali looked down."I miss him," he said sadly.

"I know me too," Omar agreed. Johnny squeezed Omar by the shoulder but then knelt down.

"Ali, I got you something before we came here," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop and handed it to the little boy.

Little Ali smiled a great wide smile. "Cherry red! Thank you, Dad, it's my favorite!" He hugged Johnny by the neck.

Johnny laughed. "You're welcome, I happen to know it was your Papa's favorite too," he said winking at Omar who laughed at the memory.

After a few more minutes of looking at the display, Little Ali shifted his legs. "Can I go outside?" he asked.

Omar and Johnny exchanged glances. "Alright," Omar said. "But stay near the house, don't wander off too far away. Don't touch anything that you're not supposed to and don't get into any rooms that you're not allowed to." Ali tried to leave before his Papa could continue with the instructions, most of which he didn't listen to. "And stay out of trouble."

"I will," Ali said as he ran off.

"He won't," Johnny replied.

"I know he won't," Omar sighed. "I just figured it was worth a shot." Omar and Johnny looked at the photographs embracing each other. Despite losing his father, Omar never felt more complete nor happier than when he was with Johnny and Little Ali. He knew that his father approved. Impulsively, he leaned towards Johnny and kissed him on the mouth. "Thank you."

Johnny smiled wryly and pulled him closer. "What are you," he whispered, "a girl?" The two laughed as Johnny lifted Omar by his feet and returned the kiss.

The End


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